


Cultural Affair

by zwischenimmerundnie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Smut, Writers, one is grumpy and the other a ray of sunshine, photographer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 245,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zwischenimmerundnie/pseuds/zwischenimmerundnie
Summary: Timothée is a writer for Cultural Affair, one of the most talked about magazines in New York. When his editor -and friend- Zoe asks him to work on a profile about the new hot photographer that has taken over Instagram, he finds himself in a job he didn´t really want to, but that can change his life forever. As their worlds collide, Timothée and Armie will understand that sometimes opposites do attract, and that maybe they aren´t even that different.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 1047
Kudos: 710





	1. Instagram Made Everyone An Artist

**Author's Note:**

> A new year begins and with it a new journey.  
> I´ve been slowly working on this story since October, building up the characters, the scenario and trying my best to put into words all that it´s on my mind. I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I do.  
> Hop on, our road trip is about to start.

**New York, August 2019.**

_ New York can be a concrete jungle, but it also has little hidden places, which can transport you to the most different places on earth and its streets, if only you´re willing to listen, can tell you the most intriguing, funny and emotional stories. New York is a place of polarity, filled with life, love, laughter and… _

_ Where am I going with this? _ The question pops up immediately on Timothée´s mind as he stops typing, his fingers hovering on top of the keyboard while his green eyes, confused and tired, stare at the screen of his laptop. He´s been sitting there for about an hour, drinking mug after mug of coffee and typing non stop, only to erase everything seconds after it.

With a sigh, he slopes back on the chair, fingers tapping on the wooden desk as his eyes wander around the small coffee shop. He became a loyal customer of La Cafeteria about a year ago, when in a rainy afternoon he secluded himself inside the place for a couple of minutes. The delicious variety of coffee, paired with the most incredible sandwiches and croissants, quickly made the place the perfect spot for Timothée to sit down and write. Sadly, the last couple of weeks have been so unproductive, that not even La Cafeteria could help Timothée with his writer´s block.

He scratches his neck, bites his lip and checks his phone. It´s time to go back to his actual job, the one who actually does pay his bills, sit down on a desk and try to write another piece that would excite the masses. Or at least the loyal group of people that follows the magazine. He closes his laptop, shoves it inside his backpack and swings it over his shoulder while getting up. He waves at one of the baristas on his way out, stops by the door, inhales deeply and only then steps out.

Timothée marches down the street like a man on a mission, his curls bouncing around with every step he takes and the sweat starting to creep up as the afternoon heat gets more intense. Luckily for him, it only takes five minutes to get to his destination, the incredibly beautiful and modern building where Cultural Affair has its quarters. He walks inside, a sigh of relief escaping him as the cool air hits him, and makes it straight to the elevator, his foot tapping on the floor as he waits to get to the twelfth floor.

The elevator chimes, the doors open and as Timothée steps out, he is welcomed by a black woman in her late twenties. Her afro hair is pulled up and tied with a beautiful and colorful headscarf, her lips sporting a bright red lipstick and her outfit, a perfect mix of someone who´s edgy, but also doesn´t give much of a fuck about anything. Timothée finds that slightly amusing, because he knows -better than anyone- that Zoe actually does care a lot about everything. Maybe even too much.

"I´m glad you decided to join us, Chalamet."

"Things seem pretty chill around here, so maybe I should have stayed where I was."

Timothée winks, but all he gets in return is one of Zoe´s classic unfazed smiles and a little push in the direction of his desk. He sighs, knowing she means business and resorts to silence until he is sitting comfortably in his chair, his legs up and his arms crossed as he stares at his friend -and editor- with a cocked eyebrow.

"What´s up?"

"I´ve found the perfect piece for you."

"You have?" He asks a bit incredulous as she nods eagerly, pushing his feet off of the desk so she can sit on it. "And what is it?"

Instead of saying anything, Zoe simply slides a small folder over to him, the smile on her face now much brighter than the previous one. Timothée frowns, reaches for the folder and takes a quick glance at it, seeing nothing more than a couple of photographs, brief headlines and contact numbers.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"This guy has just become the new It Photographer on the internet. He gains thousands of followers each day, he is super talented and, of course, super hot."

"And?"

"And I want us to be the first ones to actually get deep with him, talk about his life, his career, what are his plans for the future and his inspiration."

"Basically, you want a profile on this guy."

"Exactly," she grins. "And I was sitting at my office, thinking who would be the perfect person for the job and, honestly, your name is all I could think of."

"You want me to do a profile on a little Instagram photographer? Zoe, I´m better than that."

"Now you´re just being nasty, this guy is actually good, he simply uses Instagram as a way to promote his art."

"Everyone became an artist since Instagram came around."

"C´mon, Timothée, I think this could actually be a great piece for the magazine."

Timothée looks down at the sheet of paper once more, then back at his friend, who´s looking down at him with hopeful eyes.

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course, but I´d appreciate if you gave me an answer by tomorrow at five."

"I´ll do it."

"Great," she hops off of the desk. "Take the folder with you, there you´ll have some brief information on him, but you can make your own research and then tell me if you think this is worthy or not."

"Okay."

"I need to get back to work now. Also, I believe you have a little piece to finish, don´t you?"

"It´s almost done and it will be on your desk by the end of the day, no need to worry."

"That´s why you´re my favorite," she whispers while Timothée chuckles.

As Zoe walks back to her office, Timothée swirls around on his chair and starts off the computer, the folder on the Instagram photographer, as he had already labeled the guy, tossed to the side.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


When Timothée left his mother´s home at eighteen, it took him a while to get used to his new life style. Sure, a big part of that was the fact his college roommate was a complete idiot, who could barely hold a conversation with him for longer than five minutes, which made living together for four years an insufferable task. But he also feared he wouldn´t be able to hold himself together after his mother had sugar coated him too much throughout life, and in the end he would run back to her and cry for help.

Of course, in the end everything turned out to be the complete opposite of what he expected. Despite his horrible roommate, college turned out to be excellent and a great place for him to discover more about him; and once he was out of there and looking for a place of his own to live, the tiny little nineteen century building in Brooklyn seemed like the perfect place. The fact it was only fifteen minutes away from work did make the place pretty perfect for Timothée, who cherished every single second he spent on his little corner of the world.

His apartment´s windows overlooked one of the most busy streets of Brooklyn and although the place wasn´t big, it had enough space for everything he needed. Under the two large windows, he had a long wooden bench, with cozy and comfortable cushions; the living room was simple, just a large white couch, a coffee table and two arm chairs; on one of the walls, which had black and white graphics, shelves filled with an incredible variety of books and the kitchen, which was extremely small compared to the one he grew up in, had only the essential to make a good meal.

His bedroom, his private oasis in the middle of the chaos of the city, barely had anything. White walls, a king size bed, a desk for him to work on and a little clothing rack where he put on his clothes. After his college experience, Timothée realized he didn´t need much space, nor much furniture.

Inside the bathroom, he looks at himself in the mirror, his wet hair falling down his forehead and the freckles on his nose a little more highlighted than usual. He pushes his hair back, ties the towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom, throwing himself on the bed seconds later. With his eyes closed, arms and legs stretched out, Timothée lets his mind run wild; he has so many ideas flowing inside his head, if he only could actually bring himself to write any of them.

It´s been nearly four months since he decided he would actually follow his dream, sit down and write something on his own. In the beginning it seemed like things were moving forward, but as the weeks went by, everything he wrote sounded like total crap and he end up deleting most of the things he did. By now, he could barely write a phrase without feeling like a failure.

The doorbell brings him back and he sighs, pushing himself up from the bed and dragging himself around the apartment. He doesn´t bother putting any clothes before he opens the door, a hand on his hip as he looks at his best friend, and former lover, standing right in front of him.

"You´re still looking like this?" 

Chris shakes his head, walks past Timothée and grabs a book on his way to the living room, where he throws himself on the couch. Christopher Adam Blake, was one of the first people Timothée met in university and after a few weeks, the two of them had already started a brief but quite intense relationship. It was quite clear for them though, and truthfully to everyone else around them, that they were better off as friends.

And for the past six years, that´s exactly what they were. Throughout his many failed relationships, heartbreaks and disappointments, Timothée always knew he could count on Chris to be there for him, just like he was there for him whenever he needed. Most people didn´t even want to see their exes faces after a break up, but Timothée was happy he managed to become good friends with his. 

"Do you plan on getting dressed or not? We´re supposed to leave at eight."

"Which means I have plenty of time."

"Have you checked the time? You got ten minutes, lazy ass."

"What?"

"Yep, you got ten minutes until Zoe stops by and you know damn well she won´t be waiting for you."

Timothée groans, dragging himself back to the bedroom as Chris chuckles from the couch, opening the book he had in his hands. He stands in front of the clothing rack, his fingers going through all the clothes there as he tries to decide what to wear. He bites his lip, reaches for a pair of skinny jeans and a black shirt and quickly puts them on, his eyes scanning the room in search of his black boots. 

He rushes around the bedroom, stopping in front of the mirror every two seconds to check on himself, make sure he looks presentable. Just as he finishes fixing his hair, he hears a honk and his phone ringing, which can only indicate one thing.

"She´s here, lazy ass, hurry up."

"I´m ready, no need to rush me," he whines while reaching for his wallet and rushing out of the bedroom. He takes his keys, takes one quick look around the apartment and then gestures for Chris to get up. He locks everything behind him and they both rush down the stairs, reaching the ground floor in less than three minutes. 

By the time they get to Zoe´s car, she´s already looking annoyed, her curly hair now styled with some side braids. She takes a drag of her joint, opens the door and watches as they get in, handing the joint to Timothée.

"I have faith that one day I´ll get here and you´ll already be waiting for me."

"I highly doubt that will ever happen, my friend," Chris says while leaning back on the back seat. "Mr. Lazy Ass can never get ready on time."

"It´s eight, just like we planned, I don´t know why you two are so stressed out about this." He rolls his eyes, handing the joint to Chris. "Besides, the club opens at eight thirty, we´ll be there early, like three old ladies."

"Did you just call me old lady?"

"Maybe."

"You´re lucky you´re one of my best writers, otherwise I would kick you out of the car right now, Timothée."

"I´d like to see you try." Zoe shoots him a look and he smirks, playfully pinching her cheek while she tries to slap his hand away. He laughs, places his feet up on the dash and leans back as she starts the car, driving off down the street.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The lights flick from purple to blue and then yellow, illuminating people´s faces and creating patterns and shapes all over the walls. The club is small, a little door behind a barber shop right in the most agitated area of Brooklyn, but it attracts people from all over New York almost every single night. The music is good, the drinks even better and ninety percent of the time, people just want to have a good time and hang out with their friends.

On the crowded bar, at least five bartenders move around each other, flipping bottles, setting things on fire and flirting with every girl that dares to approach them. Squeezing himself through the sea of people, Timothée slowly makes his way over, leaning against the wooden counter until someone finally comes his way.

"Two Coronas and one Tequila Sunrise, please." 

The man nods his way, scans his little wristband and walks away without even saying a word, something which Timothée has learned to ignore, even if it still does infuriates him. He turns around, elbows leaned against the counter as he watches the people dancing. Until about a minute ago, he was the one in the middle of the dance floor, dancing along with his friends; now he´s tired, his throat is completely dry and he´s sweating like a madman.

He sighs, turns back around and leans forward on the counter, waving his hand around in a failed attempt of getting one of the bartender´s attention. He loves going out, but the constant struggle to get a drink in a bar sometimes does seem like too much.

"If a pretty guy like you can´t get their attention, we´re all doomed."

Timothée looks over his shoulder, a little smirk on his face as he recognizes the guy from the dancing floor. He was watching him for a while, even dared to come close and dance around him, an intense and quite inviting look in his eyes. He takes a better look at him, paying attention to every single detail now he can actually see him. He´s tall, handsome, has dark brown hair, black eyes and a little bit of stubble, which is always a plus side when it comes to Timothée.

"That´s because they´re all straight," he says with a shrug. "So only the women get the attention...and the free drinks."

"People still hand out free drinks?"

"Not everyone, just horny bartenders wanting to get laid."

"Clearly, I´ve chosen the wrong job."

"We all have."

They smile at each other, Timothée´s green eyes wandering through the stranger´s face, reading his expression. He smirks when the guy leans closer, his hand gently brushing against his. As he goes to talk though, Timothée sees from the corner of his eyes as the bartender approaches them, sliding his drinks down the counter.

"Two Coronas and one Tequila Sunrise."

"Thank you."

"You´re gonna drink that all by yourself," the guy teases as Timothée chuckles.

"My friends are over there," he gestures towards the little VIP area where Zoe and Chris are sitting. "But hopefully I´ll see you around."

"Definitely."

Timothée nods, a smile on his face as he turns on his heels and heads back to his friends, careful not to spill any of the drinks. He places the drinks down, taking a sip of his Corona while he slides down the booth, arms resting on the back of the red velvet sofa.

"Okay, this is the guy," Zoe says handing Chris her phone.

"Holy shit, he´s gorgeous."

"Who?"

Timothée doesn´t even wait for an answer, he leans closer to Chris immediately, snatching the phone away from him. He cocks an eyebrow, staring down at the man in the photo with some interest; his deep blue eyes and the wide smile on his face do look quite good, Timothée has to admit.

"Who´s this?" He asks while Chris takes the phone back in his hands.

"That is the guy you refuse to meet with."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is the photographer I talked about earlier today."

"Oh," he mumbles. "That´s him?"

"Yeah, that´s him."

"What´s your beef with the guy?"

"I have no beef with him."

"You´re just being a judgmental little bitch."

"Okay, that´s not fair, Zoe. I have nothing against the guy, but I don´t think he is exactly what our magazine needs."

"Our magazine needs good pieces about people who are interesting, people that will attract others and right now he is attracting a lot of buzz."

"And I´m fairly sure is because he looks like that," he says with a shrug. "I´m just saying, I´m not sure a piece about a random photographer is what people who read our magazine is looking for. Or maybe they are and I´m just not the right person for the job."

"And I disagree," Zoe says while clicking through her phone. She hands it to Timothée, showing an instagram filled with pictures and smiles. "These are some of his photos, he´s actually really good and I think this piece could be great for you, for him and specially for the magazine."

Timothée sighs, eyes wandering from Zoe to Chris. "I haven´t even given my answer yet, I don´t know why you guys are so pressed about this."

"I´ve been your friend for over five years, Timothée. From the minute you told me you´d think about it, I knew you´d say no."

"Then why did you even give me a deadline?"

"Because I am stupid enough to still have hope."

"Look, I´m not part of the magazine and all I know about this guy is that he´s quite hot, but I think you should give it a try, Tim. What´s the worst that could happen? You figure out that he´s not only a wannabe, but that he actually does have talent and something inside his head?"

"He has a point."

"Fine. I´m not saying I´m gonna do it, but I promise you I´ll give this some thought."

"For real this time?"

"For real."

"Thank you," Zoe smiles, reaching for Timothée´s hand as he rolls his eyes. "You´re the best."

"I´ll remember those words when you say no to a raise in my paycheck."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but stops the moment one of the bartenders stops by their table and sets down three shots of Tequila. They all stare at each other, confused looks on their faces as the man leans closer.

"The tall guy at the far end of the bar asked me to bring these for you guys. Hope you enjoy it."

The three of them turn to the bar immediately, a cheeky grin appearing on Timothée´s face as the stranger from earlier raises his own shot. Zoe and Chris turn back to Timothée, eyebrows arched as he chuckles, raising his glass and drinking it all in one go.

"Guess I found my ride home, guys."

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée closes the door behind him and leans against it, a sigh escaping him as he closes his eyes. He is tired, his body slightly sore from his recent activities and his head is starting to pound in a mix of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. He groans, pushes himself off of the door and drags himself to the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of ice cold water. 

He takes a few sips of it as he makes it to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed as he stares into space. All he wants is to lie down and go to sleep, but he promised Zoe he would at least do some minimal research on the Instagram Photographer, and since he wouldn´t have time to do so in the morning, he knows he should just get it over with. 

He places the glass down on the nightstand, kicks his boots to the side and lazily takes off his jeans and shirt, tossing them to the side before climbing into bed with his laptop on his hand. While he waits for it to turn it on, he goes through his phone, checking the message Zoe sent with the name and instagram handle of the guy, followed by a set of praying hands emoji, which he can only assume means she is praying to all known Gods that he accepts the offer.

**< timothee>** u r not religious

**< zoewithnoy>** i will be if it means getting u to agree with this

**< timothee>** dont get too excited

i only said i would think about it

She sends him the middle finger and Timothée chuckles, tossing the phone to the side so he can type the guy´s name on his Google Search. It doesn´t take long for a list of things to pop up; Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram and a website, which Timothée chooses as his best option. 

It´s a simple, but quite pretty website, mostly black and white, but with some hints of red here and there. He scrolls through the page, not much content, but enough to give someone a glimpse of him and his work, which is exactly what Timothée is in need at the moment. He clicks on the bio, reads the two paragraphs and can´t help but chuckle. The man clearly didn´t know what to write about himself, but he has to admit it´s kind of amusing to read it, mainly because it makes him look very normal.

He goes through a couple of photos, a little confused as he sees weddings, birthday parties and nature all mixed up together, but overall he has to admit everything he sees does look quite stunning. Maybe the guy does have some talent after all and it isn´t just after the instant gratification of social media.

He changes tabs, types his instagram handle and checks the photos there, which seem to be all new and even better than the ones on the website. The contrast of colors in some of them catch Timothée´s attention and he finds himself scrolling through pages and pages of photos. By the time his eyes are already heavy and begging for mercy, he clicks on the link on the instagram bio that directs him to the guy´s personal page, where some selfies mingle with pictures of a park, the view from a large window and dozens of pictures of a dog.

Timothée clicks on one of the selfies, watching it fill the screen. He bites his lip, eyes wandering through every little detail in the man´s face. His eyes are deep blue, that he had already noticed when he saw the photo Zoe showed them at the bar, but in this one he could see his smile and it was one of those smiles that seem to be contagious. He really is a handsome guy.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée stands in line at La Cafeteria, his foot tapping on the floor as he stares out of the window, imagining he is lounging by the pool, sunglasses on and a drink on his hand. As his name is called, he snaps out of his thoughts and smiles gently to the barista, who hands him his order. He nods at her, takes a few sips of his iced coffee and rushes out of the coffee shop to the nearly scorching Sun.

It´s not even nine in the morning and the heat is already unbearable, although if he is being honest, he had about four hours of sleep, so he doubts any type of weather would be pleasant for him. He rushes down the streets, eyes attentive to everyone around him, hearing bits and pieces of conversation he would love to know more about, and some that he wishes he didn´t even hear.

As he opens the door to the building, a cool breeze hits him and he smiles, mentalling thanking whoever was responsible for the invention of the air conditioner. He probably wouldn´t be able to survive the summer without one. By the time he makes it to the elevator, he has drank most of his coffee and for a second debates on keeping the other one to himself, but before he can even think of taking a sip, the doors open and Zoe, as usual, is already waiting for him.

"One of these days, it won´t be me on the elevator and you´ll be so disappointed."

"I can sense when you´re around, Chalamet," she says while taking the cup away from him. "Thanks for my coffee."

"No problem."

"Come to my office, will ya? We need to talk."

"I just got here, I haven´t done anything, I swear."

"I just wanna talk about your raise, silly." As he arches an eyebrow, Zoe chuckles, pushing him inside the office. "I´m joking, no one´s getting a raise here any time soon."

"That´s the boost of confidence I needed to sit down and work really hard."

Zoe shrugs and sits on the desk, her arms and legs crossed. "So, do you have an answer?"

"I thought my deadline was five in the afternoon."

"It was, but I´m scared of missing this opportunity, so I´m gonna need you to give me an answer right now."

"Why are you so interested in this guy´s story?"

"Timothée, other magazines and blogs have talked about him, but no one has actually managed to get real and deep about him. Imagine when all his followers read this profile and by doing so fall in love with our magazine. This profile can be a great opportunity for you, for him and for Cultural Affair."

Timothée scratches his forehead, eyes locked on Zoe, who eagerly waits for an answer. "Fine, I´ll work on his profile."

"You are the best." She squeals while running to hug him, nearly suffocating him in between her arms. "Thank you so much for doing this, Tim."

"I just hope it turns out as you expect."

"It will," she reaches for a small business card on her table, hands it to Timothée and smiles wide. "This is all the information you need to contact him. Send him an email, call him, text him, I don´t care, just make sure you set up a meeting and discuss how this will happen."

"But you´ve talked to him before, right? He knows what´s your idea, right?"

"Yes, we exchanged a couple of emails and I explained the situation, but it was briefly. I told him once we had someone for the job, we would get in touch to make sure everything was organized as it best suited both parts."

"Okay then," he says while looking down at the card. "Time to get this over with."


	2. Just Another Wannabe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call him Mr. Philosophical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reaction to the first chapter got me so excited and I seriously can´t wait to see what you think of this new chapter.

Brooklyn Heights is known for it´s many brownstone rowhouses, which with its imposing architecture attracts the eyes of nearly everyone, specially tourists, art and photography enthusiasts. The forested streets are bucolic, a little get away from the busy and grey streets of Manhattan. 

One of the many houses has it´s large windows open, the Sun light shining through and creating shadows in the living area. Differently from most of the houses, which have preserved the old architecture, this one seems like a completely different place once you step inside. The dark walls from the exterior give way to white brick walls, the living area has lost most of its walls, creating one big and cozy space that seems more like a loft than a proper house, while copper pieces, exposed pipes, raw steel and light bulbs bring a more industrial touch to the place.

The furniture is mostly dark, black and shades of grey, with a few hints of bronze, red and dark blue. One the walls, posters, photographs and art pieces are displayed, while on the wooden coffee table, books and magazines about photography, nature and lifestyle lie.

On the second floor, which has been nearly demolished and turned into a mezzanine, a small studio is set with reflectors, spots and shutters. There´s music playing low, while a woman leans against the brick wall, her naked body covered by a black satin sheet, her red hair cascading down her back and her tattooed arm on display for the camera. She has an intense and serious look on her eyes, her expressions changing subtly with each snap of the camera. 

Behind all the equipment stands a tall and blond man, his broad shoulders outlined by the tight shirt, his strong arms moving with perfect precision to achieve new angles. His deep blue eyes wander from the model to the camera, a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips whenever he gets the perfect shot.

He places the camera back on its tripod, fixes the angle and snaps a couple more shots. The natural light that fills the entire house working wonders on the shot, creating a halo all around the woman, which only highlights her beauty. He takes a step back, claps his hands together and gives her a nod, a warm smile taking over his face.

"This is it," his hoarse and yet soothing voice echoes. "I think we have some stunning photos to work with."

"Really? Can I see it?"

"Get dressed and meet me downstairs, I´ll show you some of them."

"You don´t have to leave the room for me to get dressed," she smirks. "It´s not like you haven´t seen it all before."

"I´m a professional, Scar. And this is work, so I´ll act as if you´re a regular model, not a friend."

"Do you have sex with all your friends?"

"Just a few."

He winks, grabs his camera and swiftly turns on his heels, rushing down the stairs. He places the camera down on the metal counter, reaches for his laptop and turns it on, scrolling through a few emails before he connects the camera on it. 

"You want anything to drink?" He shouts, taking a step back so he can look at her on the top floor. "There´s water, Soda and a couple of beers."

"I´ll have some water."

He nods, more to himself than anything else, turns to the fridge and takes a bottle of water, filling two glasses. As he sits on a stool, he smiles down at his dog, who rushes over to him, sniffing and licking his ankle.

"Hey there, buddy."

He picks the dog up, ruffling his ears as he places a kiss on the top of his head. He looks up as he hears footsteps, smiles over at Scarlett and slides a glass towards her.

"When do you think the photos will be done?" She asks while running her hands down the dog, smiling as he licks her hand. "I know you have busy days ahead of you, but I´m really excited for this."

"I will do my best to have everything by Saturday. Does that sound good?"

"You´re the photographer, Hammer, it´s your call."

"I´ll have everything done by Saturday and I´ll send you the link for download. In the meantime, you can have a little taste here."

She smiles, her arm sliding down his shoulder as she leans closer to the laptop, taking a quick look at the over forty photos displayed there. She turns to him, her eyes nearly glowing and kisses him right on the corner of his lip, making him chuckle.

"You are a genius, Hammer, and I kind of hate you for it."

"Genius is a bit too much."

"So humble."

He shrugs and leans back on the stool, watching as she places a kiss on the dog´s head and then fishes for her bag on the counter.

"I´ll see you around, Hammer."

"See ya."

"Bye, Archie!"

The dog starts barking, his tail flicking from side to side as he jumps out of his lap and rushes after her. The door closes before he can catch her though, and Armie watches in amusement as his dog walks back slightly disappointed.

He finishes his water, grabs his laptop and hops off of the stool, dragging himself to the living room, where he throws himself on the large black leather couch. He places his feet up on the armrest, leans his head back on a cushion and scrolls through his website, frowning at some of the things he sees. 

Armie reaches for the notepad and pencil by the coffee table, scribbles some things on it, and then tosses back to where it was, focusing his attention back on the website. His phone beeps somewhere and he throws his head back, eyes wandering around the house in search of it. 

He gets up with a groan, walks over to the bedroom, which is secluded from the living room area by a glass and iron partition, and finds his phone on top of the pillow. He sits on the edge of the bed, going through a couple of notifications, some missed calls from Lee and then he notices the new email, which he swiftly clicks on it.

**_< Cultural Affair Magazine>_ **

_ Dear Mr. Armie Hammer, _

_ I´m the writer designed to work on your piece for the next issue of our magazine. My editor, Zoe Santana, has previously talked to you and explained our idea, but I think it would be best if both of us got together to run through some key details. _

_ Please, let me know what is the best time and place for you. _

_ Our Cultural Affair team is delighted to work with you. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Timothée Chalamet. _

Armie stares at the email with a frown. It has been nearly four days since he talked to the editor of the magazine, but there were so many things going on in his life at the moment, he completely forgot about the fact he agreed on doing this. He wasn´t exactly the type of guy who liked sitting down and talking about himself, he would much rather have conversations about sewers then talk about his own personal life, but everyone around him seemed to think this was a good thing for his career. And to be fair, he didn´t really have anything to lose.

**_< Armie Hammer Photography>_ **

_ Dear Mr. Chalamet, _

_ I too look forward to working with you guys. I have been an avid reader of your magazine for the past three years, so it truly is an honor to work with you on a piece about my life and career. Sadly, I don´t have much time on my schedule lately, but if you´re willing, we can meet up later today on Black Brick Coffee at 4pm. _

_ Let me know if that works out for you. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Armie Hammer. _

Armie sighs, throwing himself down on the bed and stares at the ceiling, the phone resting on his chest as he waits for an answer. He lies there for a couple of minutes, but pushes himself up as he notices the time. He tosses the phone to the side, pushes himself up and takes off his shirt as he makes his way to the bathroom. He waited days for an answer, he can wait a couple hours more.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The Sun is high in the sky and the heat increases every minute that it goes by, but the view from Brooklyn Heights Promenade makes it all worth it. With sweat dripping down his forehead and back, Armie keeps his eyes focused on the road ahead, his heart beating faster as he quickens his pace. There´s music playing on his headphones, the debut album of a british musician called Sam Fender, working as soundtrack for his jogging. 

He wipes the sweat from his forehead, reaches for the bottle of water attached to his hips and chugs on it, the cool liquid soothing the burning on his throat. He looks to the side, frowning as he realizes Lee is nowhere to be seen and slowly comes to a stop, hands on his knees as he takes on deep breaths. His eyes wander around the area and as soon as he spots his friend, who´s sitting on a bench, fanning himself, he laughs.

Armie walks over to him, throws himself down on the bench right beside him and bumps knees with him, a smirk plastered on his face. He arches an eyebrow in question and Lee simply shakes his head, stealing the water bottle from his hand and taking long gulps of it.

"I don´t even know why I still agree to do these things with you. I must be a lot more stupid than I previously thought."

"Oh c´mon, it wasn´t that bad."

"We´ve been running for hours, Armie."

"Actually, it hasn´t even been twenty minutes, Lee."

"What? No, we´ve..." he looks down at his watch, groans and rolls his eyes. "Fuck."

"It´s okay, man. You just need to get used to it."

"Armie, we know each other for over ten years, I thought by now you´d know that I am not the exercising type and that will never change."

"You´re the one who said you wanted to change your lifestyle," he says while reaching for his phone and quickly snapping a picture of the view in front of him. "I´m just trying to help."

"I know and I truly appreciate, but I think it´s time for me to accept myself as your chubby friend."

Armie simply chuckles, shaking his head as Lee bumps shoulders with him. They met when they were only thirteen years old, during one of the school´s annoying lectures in the main hall, where they sat side by side. From that day on, they became nearly inseparable, attracting eyes from most people of the school, since they were an unlikely pair of friends.

But the truth was, most of their differences were only on the surface. While Armie was tall, blond and muscular, Lee was shorter, dark haired and a little overweight. But their personalities were similar, not to mention their humor and their way of seeing life. Armie had many people walk in and out of his life, but Lee was the only friend he could truly rely on. He was always ready to call out his bullshit, but also always made sure to reassure him of his talent.

"Earth to Hammer," Lee says while shaking him slightly. "Are you still here?"

"Sorry, I spaced out a little bit. What´s up?"

"Have you got any news from that magazine you like so much? Are they gonna work on your interview or not?"

"Not an interview, a profile."

"Tomato-tomato."

Armie rolls his eyes. He absolutely hates the expression.

"They sent me an email, trying to plan a meeting, but I´m not sure if we´re gonna be able to make it through."

"Why not?"

"Because it has to be today, I´m not sure the guy will have time for it."

"So you know who´s doing the interview already?"

"A guy named Timothée Chalamet, I´ve read some of his work for the magazine. He´s really good and I think this could be fun, but I can only meet up with him today and since he hasn´t..."

The phone beeps before Armie can even finish his phrase and his eyes wander down to the device with a frown. As Lee leans forward to peek over at the phone too, Armie unlocks it and checks the notification.

"Seems like he just answered you."

**_< Cultural Affair Magazine>_ **

_ Dear Mr. Hammer, _

_ I truly appreciate your reply and will be waiting for you at the specified location at 4pm.  _

_ I look forward to our meeting. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Timothée Chalamet. _

"He sounds nice," Lee says while Armie looks at him. "I really think this is gonna be a great opportunity for you."

"Either that or he´s gonna make me sound like a total asshole, but I´m willing to take the risk."

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

Armie scrolls down through his phone, his back leaned against the wooden chair. There´s music playing low, but the chatter from everyone in the restaurant is louder than anything else; at this point, he can barely hear his own thoughts. He raises his eyes, gazing around the room for a second before shaking his head. He places the phone down, leans his elbows on the table and reaches out for Lee, taking his phone down too.

"Excuse me?"

"Don´t you just feel like going somewhere quiet sometimes?" He asks while Lee arches an eyebrow. "A place that you could only hear your own voice and thoughts? Disconnect from people for a moment and clear your mind?"

"I hate when you get philosophical."

"I´m not trying to be philosophical, I´m just being honest. Don´t you wish you could disappear sometimes? Find a place where you could be alone and reconnect with your true self?"

"That journalist is gonna have a blast with you, seriously. Tell him some of this shit you just said, and that magazine´s sales are gonna skyrocket. Everyone loves a hot guy who can say difficult stuff."

Armie laughs. "I can´t be serious with you, can I?"

"Of course you can, I´m just not sure where you´re going with this."

"I just think lately we forget who we truly are way too easily. And being alone might be the only way to reconnect with ourselves again, kind of break away from everyone´s expectations."

"Armie, what´s going on? Whose expectations are you trying to break away from?"

"My own, I guess. I´m about to turn twenty nine and while my career is slowly getting bigger and becoming something I can rely on, I sometimes stop to think if everything else is also going in the direction I expected to go."

"Well, it´s true that when we were thirteen you used to say by now you´d be married and with three kids, but apart from that not being anywhere close to the truth, I can say your life is going pretty damn well."

"Why did I use to say that? What thirteen year old boy dreams of having three kids by the time he is twenty eight?"

"One that is an only child and never had to share his stuff with others?"

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "That´s a good point. From the perspective of young Armie, who would stop by at your place only on the weekends, it did seem quite fun to have a big family."

"And it is... until it isn´t."

Their conversation is interrupted by a loud voice, that seems to echo throughout the whole restaurant. A tall, dark haired man approaches them, a wide smile on his face as he pulls on the chair and nearly throws himself on it.

"Hello, my dear friends. What are we talking about?"

Taylor Brighton, twenty nine years old and with a bank account that easily reached close to one of the Kardashians, is the third member of their little group, the one who´s always late and usually doesn´t hold back his words, which most times ends up causing him a bit of trouble.

"We called you nearly a dozen times, where the fuck were you?"

"Locked inside my apartment, working on a new project of mine."

Armie frowns, eyeing Taylor up and down. "A part of me doesn´t seem to believe in you."

"I have nothing to hide, Hammer. You on the other hand, completely disappeared yesterday at the club."

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot about that," teases Lee. "Did you go home with someone yesterday? That red haired guy had his eyes on you throughout the whole night."

"I went home alone yesterday. Mostly because I had to wake up early to shoot with Scar."

"Oh," Taylor smirks. "So you scheduled the fun for the morning then?"

"It was a work thing, Taylor."

"You and Scarlett? Yeah, right."

"It´s been nearly a year since Scarlett and I slept together, okay? But she called me the other day, said she needed to do a little photoshoot and since we both have been busy, she stopped by before work. That´s why I disappeared last night, because I had to leave early, otherwise I wouldn´t be up at seven."

"Seven? I haven´t been up this early since I left school."

"Sadly, not all of us have sold their apps to Google, my friend. You can sleep in the whole day and still have money to waste, I sadly can´t."

"It´s not that much money."

"I beg to differ," Armie and Lee say in unison.

"Anyway, have you guys ordered already?"

"Just a couple of drinks, but we should probably figure out what to get already. Armie has a meeting later today, so he can´t stay long."

"A meeting?"

"Yeah, that magazine I told you about?" He asks as Taylor nods. "They contacted me earlier today, they really want to work on my profile, so I´ll be meeting up with the journalist later today to schedule something."

"Aren´t you supposed to go out of town tomorrow?"

"I am, which might make things a bit harder, but I already agreed to do this. Besides, everyone I talk to seems to think this might be good for my career."

"Oh, I´m sure it´s gonna be, I´m just not sure how you´re gonna do this since you´re not gonna be here. Are they willing to wait until you get back?"

"That´s why I need to talk to the guy."

"All I ask is for me to be there the day this guy gets to hang out with you, because he won´t get a true sense of who you are until he meets us."

Armie cocks an eyebrow. "You just want the opportunity to have your name added to the article."

"How dare you? Here I am trying to be a good friend and you think I´m doing this out of interest? You hurt me, Hammer, you hurt me deeply."

"I can make you feel good in a heartbeat, baby," Armie mocks while leaning his hand on top of Taylor, who rolls his eyes. "Seriously, can we just order already? I´m starving here, besides, Mr. Jogging over there needs to eat something before he passes out again."

"You made me jog for over an hour, of course I almost passed out."

"It wasn't even forty minutes, Lee, stop being so dramatic.”

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

Water drips down Armie´s naked body as he steps out of the shower, the steam filling the bathroom while he runs his fingers through his damp short hair. He stops by the mirror, takes a look at it and reaches for the towel, drying himself off before tying it around his hips. He heads out of the bathroom, taking one quick look at his phone before he walks to the closet, going through nearly every single item of clothing he has there.

He grabs a black shirt and jeans, throws it on the bed and reaches out for some underwear, quickly putting it on before throwing his clothes on. He dries off his hair when he hears a beep come from his laptop, which causes him to throw the towel down on the bed and head to the living room, where his laptop lies.

Armie sits down on the leather couch, a smile coming to his lips as he sees his father on the screen. He accepts the call, his smile growing even more when the fifty five year old man appears on the screen. The resemblances between the two are still remarkable, but the older man sports a completely grey hair now, and around his eyes, the wrinkles of age -and wisdom as his mother would say- continue to show up more and more each passing day.

"Hey, dad, it´s nice to see you."

"Oh, you still remember who I am, that´s nice."

"Stop it," Armie says with a chuckle. "How things going over there?"

"Everything´s calm, but retirement can be a bit boring sometimes. We were planning on going on a small trip, maybe go to the beach and get some fresh air, but your mom thinks it´s best if we stay home for now."

"How is she?"

"She´s doing great, Armie, but the treatment is tiring."

"You promise me you will tell me if anything happens, right? I don´t want you to sugarcoat me about anything, dad, I can handle it."

"I know you can, son, you always were a tough kid."

Armie smiles softly, a little blush appearing in his face. He reaches for the computer, placing it on his lap so he can sit down in a better position.

"How´s life going, Armie?"

"Things are good around here, I have a new project I´m starting soon and I think it´s gonna result in some incredible photos, dad."

"You seem excited."

"I really am," he nods. "There are some nice things coming my way and I won´t tell you what it is, but I hope you and mom will like it."

"I´m curious now," he smiles. "What about your love life? Got anyone in your life lately?"

"Are you serious?"

"What? I want to know what is going on in my son´s life."

"Yeah, but I feel like a teenage boy, who´s father is about to have the talk."

"I don´t think we ever had the talk."

"Thank God for that," he says before letting out an exaggerated sigh, which makes his father laugh.

"So, you haven´t answered my question yet."

"No, dad, I´m not going out with anyone right now."

"What about that lovely girl you were always with? She is stunning and seems like a very nice lady, maybe..."

"Scarlett is just a friend."

"And no guy in sight?"

"Dad, are you trying to set me up or something? What´s with the questioning?"

"Why is so wrong for a dad to try and understand what is going on with his son?"

Armie rolls his eyes. "You´re really weird, you know that, right?"

"What you call weird, I call it being unique."

Armie frowns, shaking his head as his father shrugs. He could spend hours sitting there talking with his dad, laughing at his weird jokes, cringing at his sometimes over the top behavior or simply staring at him in awe as he talks about his life. He has been through a lot, a life filled with ups and down, which sometimes took a tool on him, but he always found a way to remain light hearted. Armie will be lucky if he can grow old like him.

"Dad, I wish we could talk some more, but I have a meeting I have to go to right now."

"It´s okay, son, we can talk more some other day."

Armie nods. "Tell mom I love and miss her, okay? I´ll try to stop by as soon as possible, I want to make sure she is alright."

"She´s fine and she misses you too, but she understands that your life is in New York and you can´t always be here."

"I´ll try to be around more often though, I don´t want to...," as he trails off, Armie watches as his dad smiles sweetly at him, an understanding look on his face.

"You don´t have to say anything, son."

"I love you, dad."

"Love you too. Now go, I don´t want you to be late."

Armie ends the call, letting out a sigh as he buries his face in his hands. He needs to see his mother as soon as possible, make sure he´s there for her during this difficult time of her life. He shakes his head, trying to push back those thoughts and checks the time, cursing under his breath as he realizes it's almost four. He´s gonna be late for his meeting with the journalist, which is definitely not the impression he wants to cause right on their first meeting.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

By the time Armie enters the dark and edgy building of the Black Brick Coffee, is already twenty past four, his cheeks are flushed and even his hair is a mess. The wind has gotten a bit more intense as the end of the afternoon approaches and the heat is not as bad as it was during the morning, which at least guarantees he´s not smelling and sweaty. Being late is already enough of a bad thing.

He waves over at the baristas, all of them already good friends of his judging by the unhealthy amount of times he visits the place.

One of the girls, with a wide smile on her face, points over to the small yard on the back of the store, where a couple of tables are spread. He nods, winking at her and strides out to the yard, heading straight to the table at the center, where a young man sits down with his phone in his hand and a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Timothée Chalamet?" 

Armie´s voice echoes in the quiet yard while he leans against the chair, watching as the young man raises his gaze to meet his. For a moment, they simply stare at one another, eyes taking in each other´s features. The young journalist has dark hair, beautiful curls which frame his face perfectly, green eyes and pale skin, although there´s a bit of a flush around his cheeks.

With a quick nod, the guy gestures to the chair across from him and Armie sits down, hands sprawled on the table as he lets out a sigh. He remains quiet for a minute or two, although he isn´t sure why; this is a meeting and they should be talking, right?

"I´m so sorry," he finally manages to say. "I didn´t mean to leave you waiting, that´s totally unacceptable."

"No no, it´s okay, you don´t have to worry."

"No, seriously, I´m already causing too much trouble by forcing this meeting to be today, the least I could have done was be here on time."

"It´s all good, trust me. You actually gave me some time to deal with my unread emails."

"Okay," Armie says with a chuckle, while nodding his head. "Let´s talk business then."

"Right," Timothée says while clapping his hands together. He turns down his phone, placing it down on the table before taking a quick sip of his coffee. "So, you talked to my editor and I believe she explained the basics of what exactly we plan on doing, right?"

"Yeah, it was a brief conversation, but we managed to cover most things. At least I think so, you guys did take a little longer than I expected to answer me whether it was really going to happen or not."

"Yeah, she was trying to figure out who was the best suited for the job."

"And you won."

Armie´s voice is cheerful, on his face a genuine and warm smile. He turns to the side as one of the baristas approach them, placing a little mug in front of him with a smile. He nods at her, gently touching her arm and then turns back to Timothée, who watches the interaction with attentive eyes.

"So, you won," he repeats it as Timothée nods slowly. "I do wonder though, why not just a simple interview?"

"Because you´ve done that before. Not many times, nothing too substantial, but you´ve done it and Zoe wants something different. Besides, she thinks you are the perfect fit for our magazine."

"I´m flattered she would think that, I love your magazine."

"You read Cultural Affair?"

"Of course I do. By the way, your peregrination through the museums of New York was one of my favorite pieces."

"You read my stuff?"

Armie frowns while nodding, but quickly understands the situation, which makes him chuckle. 

"Let me guess, you thought I was just another instagram wannabe artist." As Timothée remains silent, Armie laughs. "Trust me, you´re not the first and probably won´t be the last."

"I´m sorry," Timothée says, his tone genuine and a bit embarrassed. "I shouldn´t have judged you before even seeing you face to face."

Armie shrugs. "Don´t sweat it, we are human beings, we do this kind of stuff every single day of our lives. I only hope I can change your mind by the time we´re done with this profile."

"I believe that´s what profiles are made for." Armie shrugs and Timothée reaches out for his phone, unlocking it and checking his calendar. "Anyway, we need to talk dates. Zoe wants to make sure this is done as soon as possible and she also wants a little photoshoot with you, which is a bit ironic. Anyway, I can squeeze this in anytime this week, so whatever works best for you is good for me."

"Yeah, about that..."

As Timothée frowns, slightly confused by his tone, Armie bites his lip and scratches his neck, trying to figure out exactly how to say this.

"What´s wrong?"

"When I talked to your editor, I was in the process of figuring out this new project of mine, which might complicate things a little bit."

"In what way?"

"I leave the city tomorrow and will be on the road for two whole weeks."

"But I thought..." Timothée shakes his head. "You agreed to this."

"And I want to do it, I think this is a brilliant idea and I am excited for it. We´ll just have to wait until I am back to work on it, but I promise you guys that no matter who contacts me, I´m not talking to anyone before we get this job done."

"You don´t get it, Zoe wants this done as soon as possible, we can´t wait two weeks."

"I´m sorry. I should have discussed that with you guys before, but there was so much going on and for a second I really thought you had given up on the offer. I really want to do this and if you can wait the two weeks, I promise you it will..."

"What?" Timothée asks confused as Armie stops talking, a pensive look on his face. 

"There´s actually a way for you to get this done sooner."

"Which is?"

"You come with me."


	3. Beauty In Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road awaits.

"You´re going."

"I´m sorry?"

Timothée´s nearly high pitched scream echoes through the small coffee shop, his eyes wandering around the place with a small smile of embarrassment as he notices some people staring at them. He sighs, leans forward on the table and looks Zoe in the eye, trying to figure out if she´s being serious or not.

"You´re going with him, Timothée."

"You have got to be kidding me, Zoe. I´m not going on a road trip with a guy I just met."

"Timothée, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, don´t you get it? What if this guy turns out to be a huge photographer in a couple of years? Do you really want to be the journalist who missed on his first big interview?"

"He won´t become some sort of Annie Lebovitz in two weeks, Zoe, we can wait until he´s back and work on the profile."

"Until then, someone else will reach out to him and have an interview."

"He promised he won´t talk to anyone before he works with us."

"And you trust him?"

"No, because I don´t fucking know him."

"Exactly why we need to do this right now," she whispers through gritted teeth. "So send him an email saying you agree, go home, pack your bags and prepare everything you need to make this the biggest piece you´ve ever done for Cultural Affair."

Timothée shakes his head, his hands turning into fists. 

"Zoe, I love you with all my heart, but I am not going to get in a car with a man I don´t know."

"That´s exactly what you did yesterday night."

"Wha...I didn´t...you...," he stops, inhales deeply and tries to put a smile on his face. "That is not the same thing, Zoe."

"It´s exactly the same thing. Both the guy from yesterday night and Armie can be creepy and murders, you took a chance with one of them, why not with the other?"

"Are you listening to yourself right now?"

Zoe sighs, buries her face in her hands and then reaches out for Timothée´s hand. "Do you see the potential in this situation, Tim? You were gonna write a profile based on one day around this guy, now you have the opportunity to spend two whole weeks with him, learning every single thing about him and working on something great. You can write and rewrite based on the little things you´ll see, on every interaction he has with someone, you´ll have material that some people only wish they could have."

In complete silence, Timothée stares at Zoe, million of thoughts going through his head. She isn´t wrong, this is a completely different way of doing things and could result in something great, but he can´t deny spending two weeks with a man he barely knew wasn´t exactly what he had in mind. No matter how gorgeous the man in question is.

"Look, I can´t force you to go on this trip with him, but I think saying no to this opportunity is also pushing back something that could be great for your own career. But you do what you think it´s best for you, I will support you no matter what."

"Will you?"

"Timothée, I´m not just your editor, I´m also your friend. So yeah, whatever you decide I won´t hold any grudges."

Timothée nods slowly, his eyes stuck on Zoe as he tries to read her expressions. He bites his lip, his fingers tapping on the wooden table as he thinks things through and tries to decide what to do.

Armie said it would be a short trip, where he would be spending the maximum of two days in each town, getting to know the people and the place, and while doing so, capturing their day to day lives in his photos. 

Timothée surely wasn´t that impressed with the guy and he can´t say their first meeting was enough to change his mind completely about him, but he had to admit that his idea seemed interesting. Besides, by going with him he would get the chance to meet places he never really thought of stepping in and by doing so, he could actually find new things to write about.

"Okay, here´s the deal. I´m going on this road trip, I´m gonna work on this profile and make it my best piece for this magazine yet, but if I do get murdered by this guy, I am coming back to haunt you."

"And if it happens, I´ll be ready for it." As Timothée shoots her a glare, Zoe bursts out laughing. "In all seriousness now, I always thought you were the perfect person for this job and I know you´ll make something amazing out of this. And don´t worry about anything, the magazine will pay for everything you need."

"I like that part."

"Oh, don´t get too excited."

"Oh, why not? I´m thinking five stars hotels and fancy restaurants."

"Funny," she mocks. "But you´re staying where he is staying, you´re doing what he is doing. You´re gonna be his shadow for two weeks, but we will pay for your meals."

"What about my drinks?" Zoe cocks an eyebrow and Timothée shrugs. "I´m spending two weeks with a stranger, I might need a lot of booze."

"You´re working, lazy ass, you can´t drink."

"We´ll see about that."

* * *

  
  
  
  


"Wait, you did what?"

Taylor´s voice echoes in the house as he throws himself down on the leather couch, his eyes locked on Armie, who looks at him from the kitchen, slightly confused. He frowns, eyes wandering to Lee, who simply shrugs his shoulders, trying his best to let him know he has absolutely nothing to do with this.

"Please, tell me you´re fucking with me." As Armie smirks, Taylor rolls his eyes. "I´m serious here, Hammer."

"So am I, Taylor."

"You invited someone you don´t know to go on a road trip with you for two entire weeks? That´s what you´re trying to tell me?"

"Yes," Armie says, kind of annoyed by Taylor´s reaction. "I don´t get what´s the big deal about this. We need to work on the profile and since the magazine wants to do it as soon as possible, I thought this was the best idea."

"Does your mom know you´re allowing a complete stranger into your car?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

Taylor nods eagerly, bringing his legs up on the couch as he turns to Armie´s direction.

"Of course I´m serious, Hammer. Dude, you met this guy a few hours ago and now you´re going on a trip with him. Don´t you think that´s a bit risky? He could be a weirdo."

"He works for the magazine, do you really think he would do something against me? And even if he tried, I´m taller and stronger, I´m pretty sure I could handle him."

"Some psychopaths are really small and lanky, but when they are on the verge of anger that really doesn´t matter much, they will kill anyone that comes their way."

Silence takes over the house for a minute and while Lee remains in his exact spot, sitting on the couch with his legs up the coffee table, Armie and Taylor´s eyes wander to him. When he finally notices the stares, Lee looks from Taylor to Armie with a frown upon his face.

"What?"

"That´s a weird thing to say," Armie answers, grabbing the three bottles of beer on the counter and walking towards his friends. 

"Taylor was the one who started with this whole thing, and if he thinks the guy is a weirdo...."

"A weirdo, not a psychopath."

"What´s the difference?"

"Well one is...," he trails off, eyes turning to Armie, who shakes his head. "It doesn´t matter, I´m not saying the guy is a psychopath. I still don´t think it´s a clever idea to ask him to go with you on the road trip though."

"The best way to get to know someone is by traveling with them," Armie recites, a little smirk on his face. "My mom used to say that to me all the time when I was young."

"I´m pretty sure she meant someone you´re already in some kind of relationship with, like a family member or a possible lover."

"Look, this guy needs to work on a profile about me and his editor wants it done as soon as possible, so I gave him an option, doesn´t mean he´s gonna accept it."

"So he didn´t give you an answer?" Armie shakes his head. "In that case, he´s clearly smarter than you."

"How come?"

"Well, he´s probably freaking out over the fact the guy he talked to for like twenty minutes wants him to go on a trip with him."

Armie cocks an eyebrow, bites his lip and turns his gaze to Lee, who nods his head slowly. He sighs, scratches his neck and takes a long gulp of his beer.

"When you put it that way, it does sound quite creepy."

"Fuck, you can be so stupid sometimes."

"I´m sorry if I´m not as smart as you, Mr. I Got An IQ Of 155."

Lee chuckles, shaking his head as he gets up, taking his beer with him as he walks to the kitchen. "I swear to God, sometimes I think all this bickering of you two is just sexual frustration."

"I´m not gay."

Lee shrugs, his face hidden by the fridge door as he rummages for something to eat.

"And he´s not really my type," Armie protests as Taylor shoots him a look. "What? You´re not."

"You don´t have a type, dude, you will fuck whoever gives you a chance."

"That´s so not true. I have standards, okay?"

"You do not."

"Hey guys," Lee calls out, waving a menu. "I´m gonna order a pizza, which one the love birds want?"

"Shut up," they both shout in unison as Lee chuckles.

"I´ll choose it myself, then."

"Now seriously," Taylor turns to Armie. "Have you finished the itinerary for the trip?"

"Yep. I have everything prepared already, booked all the motels, bed and breakfasts, just need to get my bags inside the car and put on gas, but I´ll do that on my way out."

"You´re going North as planned?"

"Yes," he says excitedly, a wide smile on his face. "I´m looking forward to all the small towns I´m about to stop by, they always seem to bring out the best in me when it comes to photography."

"I have a feeling this might be your best project yet," Lee says as he walks back to the living room, throwing himself back on the couch. "I just know you´ll come back with some great material."

"Kiss ass," Taylor mumbles, but the smile on his face says he isn´t being serious. "And I promise you once you´re back your new website will be done."

"Finally."

"Hey, you want something cool or not?"

"I want something functional and nice to look at."

"And you´ll get that, that´s why I need time."

"You have fun making me wait, that´s the truth."

"Blasphemy," he whines, swinging his legs over Lee´s lap.

Armie chuckles, his eyes moving down to his phone as it beeps. He reaches for it and clicks on the email notification, biting his lip as he reads it through. He gets up, scratches his neck and runs a hand through his hair, before turning his attention back to his friends, who are staring at him confused by now.

"What´s up?"

"He agreed."

"What?"

"Timothée, the writer, he agreed."

"Oh," Lee starts. "That's gonna be an interesting two weeks."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**_< Armie Hammer Photography>_ **

_ Dear Timothée,  _

_ I´m thrilled you and your editor have agreed on my proposal.  _

_ I look forward to this experience and the material we both can accomplish with it. _

_ We leave tomorrow at 2pm, I hope it´s ok with you. _

_ My address is: Willow Street, 344 - Brooklyn Heights. _

_ Ps: your ground rules seem plausible enough, you can count on me to make sure they are all followed. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Armie Hammer. _

Timothée stares down at his phone, the email taking over the screen. He´s been staring at it over and over again every five minutes, wondering if the guy is mocking him by talking about those ground rules. Not that he´s ashamed of them in any way, he´s traveling with a complete stranger, he needs to make sure some things are left pretty clear.

He shakes his head, puts the phone down and walks over to the bathroom, eyes wandering around the place to make sure he has got everything he will need for the next two weeks of his life. Two weeks, which can truly end up being like hell to him as he follows a stranger around. He stops by the mirror, stares at his reflection and sighs.  _ What have I gotten myself into? _

He walks back to the bedroom, meticulously folding clothes, which he places inside his suitcase. He grabs his laptop, his notebooks and a small analog camera, places them on his backpack and zips it up, just as he hears a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

Timothée doesn´t even pay much attention, he keeps on walking around his bedroom, collection books on the shelves, adding jackets and boots to his suitcase. He only stops by the time Chris appears by the door, a frown on his face as he looks around the room, which by now is a mess.

"What is going on here?"

"I´m packing."

"For what exactly?"

Timothée sighs, hands on his hips as he leans against his nightstand.

"I accepted the photographer´s proposal, I´m going on a road trip with him for two weeks so I can work on the profile."

"Seriously? You actually said yes?"

"You know, Zoe can be quite persuasive when she wants to be."

"That woman has some power, because hardly anyone can force you into doing something you don´t want to."

"I´m doing it for the magazine. As much as the idea seems completely insane, I do think it might lead to something nice."

Chris nods, throwing himself down on the arm chair, his arms crossed and a little smirk on his face.

"What? Why you looking at me like this?"

"Is he even more gorgeous in person than he is on the photos? I have a feeling his eyes are an even deeper blue."

Timothée chuckles, shaking his head. "It seems like you got a crush on him, huh? You want me to introduce you guys?"

"I wouldn´t dare to be in between you and your new man."

"Excuse me?"

"C´mon, I´m your best friend and you can be honest with me, Tim. Are you really doing this just for the magazine? Or meeting him actually made you change your mind and maybe even sparkled something inside that cold heart of yours?"

"First, I´m not cold hearted. Second, he seems like an okay guy, he even reads the magazine and congratulated me for some of my work on it, but I´m not into him at all."

"Timothée..."

"I´m serious, Chris."

"Look, I spent most of my night yesterday stalking his Instagram, the man looks like a fucking Greek God. You really want me to believe that you were face to face with him and didn´t feel a thing?"

"I felt annoyed he showed up late."

"You´re unbelievable."

Timothée shrugs, turning on his heels and going back to his task. He walks back to the iron rqck he calls a closet, eyeing nearly every single article of clothing he owns, trying to decide exactly what he could need.

"Should I get more jackets? I don´t want to be cold in the road and maybe the weather can change drastically, I´m scared I´ll be..."

"Where are you guys going exactly?"

"North," he answers while showing Chris a yellow leather jacket, watching as his friend nods eagerly. "He sent me his itinerary, we start here and end in Maine."

"Can you get me Stephen King´s autograph?" He laughs, crouching down as Timothée throws a pillow in his direction. He fixes his hair, sitting back straight and reaches for the little piece of paper that has fallen to the floor, where Timothée has written an address. "What´s this?"

He looks over his shoulder. "It´s his address."

"Oh, he lives in a cool area."

"Seriously, if you want I can introduce you two, you clearly sound very interested in him."

"Let me tell you what, you go on this trip with him and if once you´re back you still want to introduce the two of us, I´ll take the offer."

"You have gotten yourself a date, my friend."

Chris chuckles and shakes his head, getting up as he hears the doorbell ringing. He rushes to the front door, smiling over at Zoe as she stands there, a couple of bags on her hands.

"I brought food."

"That´s why I love you."

Zoe shrugs, places a quick kiss on Chris´ cheek and walks past him. She places the bags on the counter, taking the boxes from it and handing one to Chris. She grabs two forks, places the spare box on top of hers and follows him to the bedroom, handing one of the boxes to Timothée, who takes it with a smile.

"This place is a fucking mess."

"That´s what happens when you have to pack for an unexpected trip."

"You do know you´re off work tomorrow, right? You could do this more calmly."

"I have some bank work to do tomorrow morning and I want to stop by the grocery store to buy a couple of things too, I need my snacks to make it through the road."

"Has he replied back to you?"

"Yes. Sent me his address, the time he is leaving and even mocked my ground rules."

"Your what?" Zoe and Chris ask in unison, looking at each other for a brief moment before turning back to Timothée.

"My ground rules."

"God, you´re so fucking weird."

"How many times will I have to tell you guys that this is a complete stranger? I need to be careful, besides, it´s not that big of a deal to have some rules we must follow, I´m pretty sure it will help both of us."

"What are these rules anyway?" Zoe asks, slightly confused. "I´m genuine curious and a little bit scared, because I don´t want any lawsuits coming my way anytime soon."

"It won´t get you any lawsuits, quite the opposite, actually."

"I´m not sure if this makes me happy or even more worried."

"You´re the one who got me into this mess, Ms. Santana, you should be worried."

She chuckles, sitting on Chris ́ s lap as she takes a mouthful of her food. "I thought my calvary would happen only if you got murdered."

"You two keep making fun of me, but know this trip really could be disastrous."

Chris rolls his eyes, nudging Zoe gently. "He´s just scared he´ll end up falling for the guy, don´t worry."

"Oh for fuck´s sake, just shut up."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Thank you."

Timothée smiles politely at the driver, exchanging a quick nod with him before he closes the car door. He stands on the sidewalk, backpack hanging from one shoulder, his hand resting on the handle of his suitcase while he watches the car drive away down the flowering street. 

He sighs, reaches for the piece of paper on his front pocket and takes one quick look at it, making sure he got the right address. He stares at the house in front of him, a classic brownstone building from Brooklyn, embellished with bright and colorful flowers in one of the large windows. He grips onto his suitcase, dragging it along with him as he goes up a couple of steps that lead him to the front door. 

His finger hovers on top of the doorbell for a second, a sudden need to turn around and leave taking him over. He sighs, shakes his head and takes a couple of deep breaths; this is part of his job, he promised Zoe he would do this, he made a deal with this guy and as much as Timothée still thought this was a bad idea, he wasn´t the type to let people down when he promised them something. Even if everyone else wasn´t as keen on keeping their promises.

He rings the doorbell, his fingers lazily playing with the silver chain that hangs from his jeans. He waits, the seconds passing by quickly as he stands there, eyes down, bouncing from one foot to the other, his teeth nearly drawing blood from his lip as he bites on it.  _ If this guy forgot about me, I swear to God I will kill.... _

The door opens suddenly and Timothée raises his gaze to find a shirtless Armie standing right in front of him. He´s got a warm and sweet smile plastered on his face, his stubble a bit more apparent than it was the day before, his blue eyes also seeming a little brighter. He remains quiet, swallowing dryly as his eyes betray him and he stares at Armie´s naked and tanned chest.

"Hi. Come on in, I´m almost ready."

His voice is loud and beaming, which indicates to Timothée that he didn´t notice his stare and if he did, decided to play it cool. Thank God for that, he couldn´t bare such an awkward moment right on the first minute. Trying to put his thoughts back in order, Timothée nods and follows Armie inside the house, his green eyes immediately wandering around the place.

The first thing he can see from the door is the kitchen, which stands on the opposite side of him. On his right side, a spacious living room comes to view; fancy light bulbs, art, exposed brick walls and lots of details in iron and copper give the house a modern look that goes the completely opposite of the outside. A part of Timothée is impressed, while the other thinks this is quite typical of any Millennial. He can´t wait to hear Armie go on about how he loves to mix vintage and modern stuff to create something unique.

_ Lord, give me patience. _

"I´m really sorry, but I´m running a bit late. I had some things to do this morning and it took a lot longer than I could have expected, but I just need a couple minutes."

Timothée nods, placing his bags on the corner of the large black leather sofa. "I´ll make sure to take note of that, it might come in handy."

"What you mean?"

"You seem like the type who´s always late."

"Sadly, things have not started great between us, because I always do my best not to be late, specially when there´s other people involved. I hate to be the reason why someone is waiting."

"Don´t worry, I was just joking." He says with a shrug as Armie cocks an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn´t."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head as he rushes to the other side of the room, hiding himself behind a partition, which Timothée assumes it´s what separates the living room and his bedroom. He really can´t understand how someone can live in such open spaces like this, without doors and walls to protect them from everyone´s view.

"Fuck, I´m a terrible host. Do you want anything to drink? I got water, tea, Soda and I think there´s still a couple beers left."

"Water is fine, thank you."

Timothée watches as Armie rushes around the house, his fingers running through his blond hair, his biceps flexing as he does so. He follows his every move, his mind already on working mode, collecting every little bit of information and making sure he engraves it all in his brain. What might seem like nothing now, can be helpful when he sits down to put the profile together.

"Here you go," Armie says while handing him a tall glass of water. "I just need to make a quick stop at the bathroom and make sure I didn´t forget anything, but then we can get the fuck out of here."

"Take your time, I´m here to follow you, so it doesn´t really make much of a difference when we leave." Armie nods and turns to leave, but stops the minute he speaks again. "Do you mind if I take a look around the house? It might help collect some information, the decor can really help understand more about someone."

"Be my guess."

Timothée nods, takes a few sips of his water and wanders around the house, staring at the posters on the walls, the books on the coffee table and art that he finds scattered around the place. He seems to have a good taste, which is a nice thing. He finishes his water, places the glass down on the coffee table and walks to the stairs, rushing up to the next floor, which was turned into a studio. There are some spots, booms, cameras and blinders laying around; a small couch, a large rack filled with books, films and some sheets of papers. He takes one in his hand, trying to understand what they might mean, but gives up pretty soon and resorts to just taking a mental imagine of the place.

He turns on his heels, walks back downstairs and finds Armie leaned against the couch, phone in hand as he texts someone. Just as he reaches the last step, Timothée hears barking and suddenly a dog rushes over to his side, nearly jumping on his legs. He chuckles, the first large smile of the day taking over his lips as he kneels down to play with the dog, who licks his hand and his face, making him chuckle.

"He seems to really like you."

"Why?" He asks while fuzzling Archie´s fur. "Is he not the friendly kind?"

"Oh no, he is a total whore, will approach anyone who seems interested enough. But I can tell when he likes someone in a deeper way, you know?"

"Oh, buddy, we just met and you already love me?" Timothée jokes, his nose brushing against Archie´s snout. "You´re so pretty. What´s his name?"

"Archie."

"That´s a pretty name," Timothée whispers, placing a kiss on Archie´s head before getting up. "Sorry, I love dogs so it´s easy for me to get a bit caught up. Are we leaving already?"

"Yes, we are."

"Good."

Armie places his phone in his pocket, kneels down to hug Archie, whispering a couple of things in his ears, which Timothée sadly can´t understand. As he gets up, he reaches for his keys, a large black backpack and then turns his attention to Timothée.

"Ready to go?"

"As ready as I´ll ever be."

Armie nods, takes a hold of Timothée´s bags before he can even say anything and opens the front door. He waits for Timothée to walk out, whispers something to Archie once again and locks the door behind him. He leads Timothée to the car, a nice little Jeep that´s parked right in front of the house, loads the trunk with Timothée´s bags and then opens the passenger door for him to get in.

_ That´s the moment of truth _ , Timothée thinks as he climbs on the car, his heart racing a little bit. He knows this can go either way, but he truly hopes time proves himself wrong and this trip -and Armie- are not as terrible as he predicts. He looks back to the house, bites on his lip and turns to Armie as he climbs on the driver´s seat.

"Please, tell me your dog is not staying on his own for two entire weeks."

"What? Of course not. I asked my friends, Lee and Taylor, to come and check on him every day. Not that they need me to ask anyway, they spend more time in my house than their own apartments." Timothée nods, looking around the street as they drive off. "By the way, their names are Lee Beckett and Taylor Brighton. You might need it for your article."

"Taylor Brighton? As the guy who sold an app for Google for millions of dollars?"

"The one and only. We met in university, have been friends ever since."

"Nice connections you got."

"He´s not a connection, he´s a dear friend, who´s helped me a lot in my journey."

Timothée nods slowly, turning his gaze back to the streets that pass them by. He sighs, pushes the seat back a little and pulls his leg up, wrapping his arm around it as he leans his chin on his knee.

"Where exactly is our first stop?"

"Stanford," Armie replies quickly, a wide smile on his face. "We´re gonna spend the rest of the day there, so we can explore a couple bars and restaurants if you´re willing. Tomorrow, I have this meeting with a group of students who are part of an art collective. They are preparing something for tomorrow right in front of the Basilica of Saint John, so I have a feeling something really good it´s on its way."

Timothée arches an eyebrow, staring at Armie for a brief second. 

"Do you have a theme for this new project of yours? A pattern you´re gonna follow?"

"I never have when I go on these trips, my only plan is the road I´m gonna take. The idea here is to go to these cities, meet the people, the places and allow them to inspire me."

"That sounds a bit chaotic."

Armie shrugs, turning to face Timothée for a second. "I believe there´s beauty in chaos."


	4. The Moment I Kill You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day, too many apologies.

The melancholic beat of Sam Fender´s Dead Boys fills the car, the raspy voice breaking the silence that has taken over. While on the first few minutes Timothée asked a few random questions, making sure to write some things down on his little notebook, soon things grew quiet and while he stared out of the window, watching as the landscape changed, Armie kept humming along with the music, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him.

It was only Wednesday, most people were still working and so the road had nearly no traffic, which allowed Armie to drive freely, sometimes being the only car in sight for a couple of miles. That also made things a lot quicker and in a matter of minutes, they would be parking outside their little bed and breakfast in Stamford. But before they could get there, Armie had some other plans.

"What are you doing?" Timothée asks, pulling his feet down from the dash as Armie makes a turn into a narrow and in his books, rather inhospitable road.

"What? You think this is the moment I try to kill you?"

Armie chuckles, wiggling his brows as Timothée stares at him with what can only be described as a death glare. He shakes his head, parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, letting out a sigh.

"You don´t have to worry, man, this is just a little spot I found a couple of years ago. There´s an overlook at the end of this road, is small, but it has a beautiful view and not many people know about it, which prevents crowds."

"How long until we get to this overlook?"

"It´s a five minute walk, there´s no dangerous animals on the way and I promise I won´t try to kill you."

"Shut up," Timothée whines before hopping off of the car, hearing as Armie chuckles behind him. He sighs, pushes his hair back and fixes his clothes, his eyes wandering around the area. 

"You can stay in the car if you want, I won´t be taking long."

"My editor said I must be your shadow for the next two weeks, so I guess I can´t really do that."

"I just hope you won´t have to follow me into the bathroom too."

Timothée pretends to laugh, but deep inside he´s nearly screaming. This guy keeps trying to be funny and charming, but all he wants is to do this job and get all of this over with.

"Let´s go, but once we´re back, I´m the one controlling the music."

"What? You don´t like my music?" Armie asks with an eyebrow arched, his arms crossed above his chest.

"It´s not bad," Timothée admits. "But mine is better."

"And what kind of music do you like, Mr. Chalamet?"

"Mostly rap, but I can dig through some 80´s pop and rock too."

Armie doesn´t say anything back, he simply nods his head and heads down the dusty road, his camera already on his hands as his blue eyes wander around the area. He takes a deep breath, the fresh air bringing a smile to his lips; he brings the camera to his face, looks through the display and snaps a couple of pictures, feeling Timothée´s eyes on him.

"What?"

"What exactly is worth a photo here? It´s just a dirty road and some random trees."

"And that´s why we´re in very different professions, Timothée. I look around me and nearly everything has potential to be a great photo, even what many people consider ugly. I´m sure that sometimes you sit down and the most mundane things can trigger your inspiration and you come up with thousands of words."

Timothée scoffs, not because Armie is wrong, but because it has been a while since his inspiration blossomed enough for him to write a thousand words.

Aware of the sudden change in Timothée´s expression, Armie chooses not to dwell much on the subject and resorts to silence for the rest of their walk. He can tell Timothée isn´t exactly very comfortable or excited with their trip, which makes him wonder if his editor forced him to do this, or if he´s just generally the kind of person who takes a while to trust others. Not that it´s a bad thing, Armie has had enough experience in life to know that is not always good to be someone who trusts easily.

He shakes off those thoughts and puts a wide smile on his face as they reach the end of the road, coming face to face with a small field, trees and flowers everywhere, a couple of large rocks and a breathtaking view. He takes his camera in hand, walks over to the edge and snaps a couple of pictures, the smile on his face seeming to grow with every new angle he finds.

He hears moving, looks over his shoulder and silently watches as Timothée stands on top of one of the rocks, a serene look on his face and a little smile on the corner of his lips as he stares at the view ahead. The Sun is hitting him, highlighting his features while the wind gently blows on his hair, making a mess out of his curls. Armie smiles to himself, reaches for his analog camera and quickly -and unnoticed- takes a couple of pictures of him.

"How did you find this place?" Timothée´s voice is soft and low while he sits down on one of the rocks, stretching out his arms and legs.

"I was on a road trip with my friends, Lee needed to pee and we stopped around here. I´m a very curious dude, so I started wandering around and ended up here. It was totally worth it, don´t you think?"

"It was, this place is actually gorgeous and kind of relaxing too."

"Nature does that to you." Timothée nods, but Armie doesn´t really buy it. "You´re not a very nature friendly kind of guy, are you?"

"I was born and raised in New York."

"That doesn´t mean anything."

"I think it means a lot."

Armie chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe, but I´ve lived in nothing but cosmopolitan cities and yet, I love to be around nature, go on hikes and climb mountains."

"That just sounds very dangerous to me."

"Not if you do it the right way."

Timothée chuckles and this time Armie can tell is one hundred percent genuine.

"Ready to go?"

"Already?"

Armie smiles, sitting down on a rock opposite from Timothée. "We can stay a couple more minutes, there´s no problem."

"Good. I like it here."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée follows Armie inside the small hotel, his eyes wandering around the place for recognition. It´s simple, but well decorated, the furniture seems new, the floor and walls are clean. It certainly seems better than quite a few apartments he has spent the night in after random hook-ups. He stops by the front desk right beside Armie, his elbow leaned against the counter as he turns his attention to a couple who sits on one of the couches spread on the lobby.

They are in their late forties, the wrinkles that come with age are spreading around their face, but they have wide smiles on their lips as they stare at one another. To be with someone at such an age and still look like two teenagers in love, that´s something Timothée highly doubts he will ever go through. Life might have made him a bit too cynical about love, at least when it comes to himself.

"Hello, may I help you?"

The sweet and melodic voice that fills the air catches his attention, and Timothée turns to face the young lady that stands across from Armie on the counter. She has dark blonde hair, big black eyes and he can see just a peek of a tattoo on her shoulder, under the red uniform.

"Hi, I have a reservation under Armie Hammer."

"Okay, let me just check," she turns to the computer, typing something quickly. "You called yesterday night to add another room to the reservation, is that right?"

"Oh yeah," Timothée interrupts. "I did that."

"It´s okay, Sir. You´ll be staying on the adjoining rooms on the second floor, they are very spacious and have a nice view to the park across the street, I´m sure you´ll both love it."

"Thank you, Rose." Armie says with a wide smile on his face after checking on her name tag. 

Timothée rolls his eyes, watching as the girl smiles and her cheeks turn a bright pink. Apparently this guy can charm nearly anyone around him.

"I´ll go get your keys."

"Tell me Rose," he says a bit louder as she walks inside a small room. "What you suggest we do here at night? Any nightclubs for us to visit in Stanford?"

"There are a ton of great places you can go, nightlife here is actually pretty good. I suggest you go to Vinny´s Backyard, there´s a good selection of beers, drinks and food. But if you want, I´ll give you one of our brochures, you´ll find the best places to visit in town on it."

"That would be lovely."

Rose nods and suddenly disappears as she kneels down behind the counter, the ruffling of papers the only thing Timothée can hear. As she gets back up, she hands one brochure to him and one for Armie, her hand gently brushing against his. If he could, Timothée would barf right there in front of them.

"The keys, please?" He insists and Roses nods, handing them the keys. "Thank you, Rose."

Timothée smiles, nods in her direction and swiftly grabs his bags, heading towards the stairs as he checks the number of the room in the key. He looks over his shoulder, watching as Armie leans closer to place a kiss on Rose´s cheek and then runs after him, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

He doesn´t say a word. He´s tired, his legs need some stretching after the car ride and honest to God, all he wants is a couple of minutes away from Armie. He walks down the hallway, eyes wandering through every door until he finds the right one and quickly unlocks it, walking in before Armie can say anything. He throws his things to the side, rushes to the bed and throws himself on it, eyes stuck to the ceiling as he sighs heavily.

Timothée reaches for his phone, biting his lip as he sees a couple of messages from Zoe, most of them asking how things are going. _ Not great _ , he thinks to himself, although he has to admit most of it is because of him. He knows he might be acting like a jerk, being cranky and simply annoying, but he´s still not sure this was a good idea. Maybe Armie is talented and interesting, but he also might be vain and use his good looks in his own personal favor.

**_< timothee>_ ** _ everything is good here zoe _

_ dont worry about me _

_ im not about to haunt u just yet _

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** _ im glad _

_ have fun over there _

_ but not too fun _

_ i dont want u to forget about ur job _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ i wont _

_ xoxo _

He stares at text, sighs and then turns on his stomach on the bed, burying his face in between the pillows. He needs to get his act together, focus on his job and at least try to keep a decent kind of relationship with Armie while on this trip. After all, he is the one with the car and Timothée is not gonna piss off the one person who´s driving him around.

Meanwhile, across the locked door right beside the nightstand, Armie has taken off his shirt and tossed to the ground before climbing on bed, leaning his back against the bedpost. He grabs his phone, checks his email and then takes his camera out of its bag, going through some of the photos he took while on the overlook.

The natural light remains his best friend, providing some incredible visuals to his photos, highlighting all the important things and giving the view he had amazing shades and contours. He stops when one of the photos from Timothée comes to view, his tamed smile, his cheeks slightly flushed from the walk and the sunlight, his eyes closed as he takes in all the energy from his surroundings. 

The guy seems grumpy, constantly on the watch out and he´s clearly not keen on trusting him any time soon, which seems a bummer for Armie. Sure, their relationship is strictly professional, but if they were both interested in it, it sure would make it all a bit easier. He can only hope with time Timothée will feel more at ease around him, which will not only make the work they have to do better, but also turn this trip into something a bit more fun.

He sighs, turns off his camera and pushes himself up from the bed, dragging himself through the room and the bathroom. He takes off his remaining clothes, steps inside the shower and lets the water cascade down on his naked body. There´s not much he can do about Timothée, so he will focus on doing what he does best, enjoying life and making sure to appreciate all the opportunities life throws at him.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The day is gone and the night has fallen, bringing with it silence and peace to the small inn, which just a couple hours ago had people walking in and out. Inside his bedroom, Armie sits on the edge of the bed, tying his shoelaces as his eyes glance quickly to the mirror on the other side of the room. He stands up, smooths out his shirt, fixes his jeans and inhales deeply, walking towards the door that joins his bedroom with Timothée´s.

He knocks, a small but genuine smile on his lips as he waits for the door to open. The seconds pass, he hears absolutely nothing and knocks once more, leaning against the wall as he waits. His feet taps the carpeted floor, his finger drums along on the threshold as he looks down, his smile dropping with every second that goes by. Before he can knock again though, he hears the sound of the keys turning and suddenly the door is open wide, revealing Timothée, whose hair is a mess and is only wearing his jeans.

"Sorry, I slept a little longer than expected."

"It´s okay, I can come back in a few minutes."

"No, come on it. You can sit down and wait here, I need to ask you some questions anyway."

"Okay," Armie shrugs and follows him inside, his eyes wandering around the bedroom for a moment. It´s exactly the same as his, and yet it feels completely different. He walks over to one of the armchairs, throws himself down and crosses his legs, eyes wandering back to Timothée. "What you want to ask me?"

"Simple but crucial things."

"You´re the writer here, ask away and I will answer as best as I can."

Timothée nods, heading to the bathroom. "Are you from New York?"

"No, I´m not. My father and my mother are from New York, but he worked as a diplomat, so they had to change cities and states many times. I was born in California, where we lived for three years, then we spent the next ten years jumping from place to place until he decided to go back to New York and retire. It was the first time I actually was able to make some friends, because anywhere else I went to, I knew I would end up leaving."

"You didn´t like the life of a diplomat´s son?" 

Timothée shouts the questions from the bathroom and Armie chuckles, his eyes landing on a little notebook that lies on the dresser beside him.

"I liked meeting new places, but I also hated the fact everyone I met end up being just a passenger in my life. I was just a child, I wanted too have friends who would have sleepovers, or that people invited me to their parties, but since I never really had much time to meet anyone, it didn´t happen very often."

He reaches for the notebook, analyses the cover for a second and then open it, flipping through a couple of the first pages before he settles to reading the first entry.

"What does your mom do for a living?"

Armie completely ignores the question, his eyes and mind focused on the words on the notebook he´s got in his hands.

"Armie?"

"Oh, sorry. She was a literature teacher, but since she got married to my dad right after they graduated and his career took off quite early, she never really got to experience teaching as much as she would like it."

"Do they still live in New York?"

"No, they moved to Scarsdale a couple of years ago."

"And you didn´t..."

Armie looks up as Timothée´s voice trails off, arching an eyebrow as he sees him standing by the bathroom door, his cheeks slightly flushed. In a matter of seconds, he is standing right in front of him though, snapping the notebook away from his hands with rage in his eyes.

"Who the fuck said you could read this?"

"I´m sorry. I know I shouldn´t have, but I didn´t know you were..."

"Exactly, you don´t know anything about me. So next time, ask before you go around touching my stuff, are we clear?"

"Timothée, I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to upset you."

"You didn´t upset me, you angered me."

Armie sighs, aware that he messed up by taking the notebook and even more for reading what was on it. So much for trying to ease the relationship between them and make the trip easier.

"You know what? Go to your bar, have your fun, I´ll be staying here for the night."

"Timothée, I´m sorry."

"I heard you the first time."

"Are you serious?"

"You don´t get to walk in here and read my stuff without my permission, okay? This is personal and I´d like it to keep it that way, so please, go to your bar and leave me alone."

Armie remains in place, blinking a couple of times as he processes just how angry Timothée actually is. He nods, gets up and walks over to the door, taking one last look at Timothée over his shoulder.

"I´m sorry, okay? I promise you this won´t ever happen again, you don´t need to worry about me."

As Timothée remains silent, Armie opens the door and walks back to his room, a loud and desperate sigh escaping him. He was never really the type to snoop in other people´s things, let alone people he barely even knew, but the moment he laid eyes on the very first words of the notebook he was completely drawn to it. Those extracts showed a different side of Timothée, but his reaction to him reading also highlighted something Armie was still catching up on.

Something happened with him, something that made him unable to truly trust the people around him. Which to be fair, only made Armie sure this trip had high chances of ending up badly.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée takes another shot, the burning feeling of the tequila sliding down his throat almost ineffective by now. He slams the glass down on the counter, gestures for the bartender to pour him one more and nods to him before drinking it all. He turns around on the stool, eyes wandering around the bar, paying close attention to every single person he sees there.

There´s the usual couple who can´t stop touching each other, the college guys who are loud and obnoxious, the old men who just want to have their drink in peace and the eye candies, which are exactly what Timothée needs to end the night. A tall, blond guy catches his attention and he bites his lip, eyeing him up and down. When the guy finally notices his stare and looks in his direction, Timothée smiles seductively, his body language making sure the guy knows exactly what he wants. 

The guy turns to his friends and Timothée turns back around on his sit, nodding at the bartender who asks if he wants yet another shot. He drinks it all, licks his lips and when he notices someone sit beside him, he immediately turns to the side.

"Hey," the stranger says, his voice low and soothing.

"Hey, I´m Timothée."

"I´m Dave."

"You want to join me for a couple of tequilas, Dave?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

Timothée smirks, if there´s one thing he is quite proud of is his ability to pick up guys, he would even be cocky enough to say it´s his super power. A smile and a stare could do more than most people expect, and since he had his fair share of people say he is a good looking man, he tries to take as much advantage of that as possible. 

With Dave things go even better than he could have predicted. A couple of drinks in and the guy is already all over him, whispering in his ear, holding his arm, swirling his curls around his finger. One hundred percent smitten and ready to follow Timothée anywhere he would take him, which in this particular moment is his room back at the Inn.

He locks the door behind him, tosses his shirt to the side and then throws Dave down on the bed, climbing on top of him seconds after it. His lips are attached to his sooner after it, his hands traveling down his muscular chest and his abs, which seem to be sculpted on clay. He moans softly, grinds their bodies together and then rolls over on the bed, allowing Dave to stay on top. 

"Suck me," he demands while unzipping his jeans and pulling it down halfway down his legs.

Horny and completely under Timothée´s spell, Dave doesn´t waste much time and nestles himself in between his legs, his hand rubbing him through his boxers, watching as the wet spot around his head grows bigger, just like his cock. He smirks, eyes locked on Timothée as he leans down, pushes the boxers down and runs his tongue across the hard cock.

Timothée closes his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face as he feels Dave´s mouth engulf his cock, taking most of it right away. He moans, throws his head back and bites on his lip; nothing could top the feeling of a hot mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking him in earnest until he cums. And he had to admit, Dave was quite good at the job.

"Timothée?!"

The shouting of his name comes followed by a loud banging on the door, which takes him out of his trance and causes Dave to stop, taking his cock out of his mouth. He groans, looks over the door, but as the knocking continues he soon realizes it doesn´t come from the main door, but from the one that joins his bedroom with Armie´s.

"Should I stop?"

"No, you get back to what you were doing right now."

"Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, Timothée simply slides his hand through Dave´s hair, pushing his head down to his crotch once again. Before his lips can even past through his bulbous head though, the knocking restarts and Armie´s voice fills the air.

"You have got to be kidding me," Timothée mumbles while burying his face in his hands. 

He pushes Dave away, pulls his boxers and jeans back on and marches to the door, swinging it open. He watches Armie take a step back, eyeing him up and down before he notices Dave in the back, which causes his whole face -and neck- to turn a bright shade of pink.

"Do you need anything, Hammer?"

"Holy..." Armie bites his lip, shaking his head. "I´m so, so sorry about this."

"Have you noticed you´ve been saying this a lot and it´s just the first day of this trip?"

"I know, I´m sorr..." Armie stops before he can even finish the phrase. "I noticed you left and I knew how angry you were, so when I heard noises I decided to check in and see if everything was alright."

"I´m a big boy, Hammer, you don´t need to check on me."

"I know, I´m sorry, I just..." Timothée shots him a look, anger all over his face as Armie sighs. "I´ll just go back to my book, we can pretend this never happened."

"Fine," he slams the door close and rolls his eyes, before turning back around, arching an eyebrow as he sees Dave put on his shoes. "What are you doing?"

"Look, Timothée, you´re hot and super sexy, but I don´t want to get in the middle of whatever is going on between you and the hunk on the other side of that door."

"What? No, there´s nothing going on between us. He´s only here because we´re working together and..."

"You don´t need to give me any excuses, okay? It was fun while it lasted, but I don´t need the drama."

"Dave, there´s no..."

The door closes before Timothée can finish and at that point, all he wants is to run to Armie´s bedroom and strangle him until he begs for forgiveness, but he has more important things to take care at the moment. With a sigh, he throws himself back on the bed, turns on the television and access the porn channel, his hand sneaking inside his jeans as two guys start making out on the screen.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

On the back of the building, a large and bright room accommodates the breakfast buffet, with dozens of tables scattered around, all of them with white linen tablecloths and flower ornaments. On the right side of the room, a long wooden table is filled with a variety of food, enough to leave anyone in complete awe and also confused on what to possibly pick first.

Toast and sandwiches, ham and cheese, bacon and eggs, sausages, fruits, biscuits, yoghurt, cereals, coffee, tea and juices; everything is so beautiful and inviting, Armie simply stands in front of the table, staring at it with wide eyes and a bright smile. He reaches for his phone, snaps a couple of pictures and then puts it back on his jean pockets, swiftly filling his plate after it.

His eyes wander around the room and he quickly spots Timothée, who sits quietly at a table under one of the large windows, the sunlight hitting his face and creating a beautiful shade. He´s quite photogenic, the ambiguity in his features something that brings life to any photography; at the same time he has delicate lines all over his face, he also has a strong jawline and intense eyes. If he ever allows it, Armie could easily work on a couple of photos of him that sure would attract a lot of attention.

_ He clearly doesn´t like me though, so I doubt that will ever happen. _

With a shrug, he turns to the beverages and fills up a tall glass with orange juice before heading to Timothée´s table, sliding into the seat across from him. His head shots up immediately and Armie tries to put on a small smile, doing his best to ease in his approach to Timothée. They need to work together to make this profile worth reading, he will do everything he can to break down some of Timothée´s walls.

"Good morning."

"Morning," Timothée says rather low, his voice a clear opposite from Armie´s.

Armie nods slowly, takes a sip of his juice and then sighs, leaning forward on the table. 

"Look, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened yesterday. I´m not really that kind of person, someone who simply snoops on other people´s things all the time. You had all the right to be mad at me, but I hope we can push that back and focus on moving forward, because we have two weeks ahead of us and if we want this profile to work, we need to get along. Right?"

Timothée stares at him for a long minute in complete silence, his eyes wandering up and down his face. Confused and rather uncomfortable, Armie arches an eyebrow, nearly begging for some answer from his part. Cracking Timothée´s defence is gonna be a lot harder than he expected.

"Okay, maybe I should just give you some time and..."

"I´m sorry too, okay?" He finally says, much to Armie´s surprise. "I might have overreacted a little bit yesterday, but I really don´t like people reading my stuff."

"Trust me, your reaction was totally understandable. It was out of place from my part, but I promise you that won´t happen again."

"Thank you for that, I appreciate."

"And sorry for cockblocing you too, that was really dump of me."

"It´s okay, he wasn´t that good."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head.

"Anyway, what´s the schedule for today?"

"I´m going to take a walk around town, then head to the Basilica, I think I can get some nice shots there while I wait for the students. Then I´ll be with them from the preparation all the way to the end of the event, which is scheduled to end at around four in the afternoon."

"And when do we leave town?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"I thought you only had booked the Inn for one night."

"I did, we are camping tonight."

"I´m sorry?" Timothée´s wide eyes and slightly squeaky voice make Armie chuckle. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes, we´re camping for the night. There´s this beautiful place here and..."

"You didn´t say anything about camping," he interrupts as Armie shrugs his shoulders. "You read my journal, you cockblock me and now you´re gonna force me to sleep on the ground?"

"Well, you don´t have to go. I can go talk to Rose and book you a room for another night, but I do think that goes against the whole being my shadow thing."

Timothée stares at him, a serious and quite intimidating look upon his face, but that soon turns into a look of desperation, which kind of amuses Armie.

"Fine, we´re camping tonight."


	5. Team Jacob or Team Edward?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping can be fun.

Timothée stands right in the middle of the church, his green eyes attentive to even the smallest detail he notices. The building is beautiful, carefully crafted and clearly well preserved, the colors and statues silently screaming for attention. He gently traces his finger down one of the many benches, turning his head down so he can pay a bit more attention to the floor, which is just as breathtaking as the ceiling.

While men were able to do such work nearly two centuries ago, yet here he is, with all the technology in the world and unable to put into words the million of ideas that go through his head. Sometimes life really isn´t fair, but he is stubborn and won´t give up that easily. He sits down, grabs his phone and clicks on the camera, trying his best to take a picture that actually captures the beauty of the place.

He frowns, shakes his head and tries again, a little groan escaping him after the sixth picture. He locks his phone, allows himself to engrave the beauty and majesty of the church in his brain and smiles to himself. If nothing goes right in this trip, at least he will have seen incredible places.

"Praying for your sins?"

Timothée arches an eyebrow as he turns to look at Armie, who stands by the aisle, leaned against the bench with a smirk on his face.

"I´m not exactly a religious person," he admits. "I do find the buildings to be of an extreme beauty, though."

"Don´t worry, it´s pretty much the same with me too."

In silence, Timothée watches as Armie sits down by his side, his blue eyes intensely wandering through the place. He notices a small smile on the corner of his lips, some kind of glow on his face, a look that kind of resembles the one he himself does when he has a good idea or finally writes something he likes.

"You´re not religious either?"

"My mother was quite religious, but thankfully nothing extreme. She went to church whenever she could, sometimes she took me along with her and I can´t deny the fact that it was kind of fun at times. But as I grew up I distanced myself more and more, now I´m just like you. I love the architecture, the details, the beauty of it all, but that´s about it."

"What about your dad? Was he ever religious?"

"Never. He didn´t even want to get married in a church, but my mom convinced him otherwise. And after everything that happened, if he had any faith within him, it's long gone."

Timothée bites his lip, fumbling with his phone as he tries to build up enough courage to actually come forward and ask. As a journalist -and a writer- his guts tell him to just ask right away, but the sudden gloominess that fills his eyes worries him.  _ Just keep yourself quiet, Timothée, you´ll have time to discuss... _

"What happened?"

Armie sighs, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes fall back on Timothée.

"You don´t have to tell me anything. Or you can do it later, we´ll have plenty of time for you to..."

"My mom is sick," he finally says, but before he can lengthen the subject, his phone starts ringing. "I need to take this."

"Of course," Timothée nods, his eyes following Armie out of the church. He reaches for the phone again and opens his messages, eyes scanning through some of Chris´s latest ones.

**_< chris>_ ** _ have u been killed already _

_????? _

_ or the hot photographer is keeping u too busy _

_ ;) _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ fuck off _

**_< chris>_ ** _ oh _

_ so u r alive _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ can u ever be serious?? _

_ im fine btw _

_ things didnt start off very nicely _

_ but i guess we will have time to sort things out _

**_< chris>_ ** _ hot dude not fun? _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ not that exactly _

_ we just very different people _

_ for instance he wants to go camping 2night _

**_< chris>_ ** _ u going camping _

_????? _

_ fuck i would have gone in this trip too if i knew this would happen _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ fuck off _

_.... _

_.... _

_ should i say this while inside a church? _

"Timothée?!"

The voice echoes and Timothée quickly turns off his phone, looking over his shoulder as Armie stands by the door.

"The students are here, we´re about to start."

"I´ll be right there."

"Okay."

He sighs, takes one last look at the church and gets up, heading down the aisle.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

_ You look like an old man from the last century.  _

Timothée chuckles, almost able to hear Chris´ voice as he scribes something down on his notebook. Although he had an Ipad, a laptop and a smartphone, Timothée still liked to do things the old way; he likes to make notes down on paper, let his imagination run wild, make doodles and just let whatever comes to mind gain life in the pages of the small notebook.

Maybe it was because he used to spend hours sitting beside his mother as she wrote down on her own notebook, describing her life, her dreams and just like him, trying to create something worth publishing. Sadly, it seemed his future as a novelist would go down the same path his mother´s did.

Timothée sighs, closes his eyes for a second and tries his very best to push those thoughts away from his head. He can´t deal with that right now, not when right in front of him over twenty college students are covered in paint, chanting, acting, taking over the square, demanding love and peace. Armie said they would be incredible and he was absolutely right, because everything Timothée has seen so far was nothing short of amazing.

And if he was to be completely honest, watching Armie interact with those kids was also kind of amazing. He had this wide smile on his face the entire time, snapping dozens of photos each second, talking with everyone in such an effusive way, that it actually made him a bit jealous. 

Maybe he could pick up random guys in bars, leave with them for a hookup after only knowing them for a couple of hours -or even minutes. But ever since he was a kid, Timothée had trouble opening up, allowing himself to engage with people so freely. It took him days to actually be more himself around Chris, even longer with Zoe, since her strong personality kind of intimidated him. So to sit there and observe as Armie, who seems to be the complete opposite of him, stands there with people he just met like they were all his childhood friends is eye opening and yet frustrating.

He wishes he could change, that he could be more open to human connections again. But deep inside, he fears that will never happen again, not after...

"Hey," Armie´s voice snaps him out of his thoughts and Timothée smiles gently as he watches him take a seat beside him on the bench. "You don´t want to join? Everyone can participate."

"I know you met me only three days ago, but I think it´s pretty clear this is not really my thing." Timothée says as Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "It´s just like the church, you know? It´s beautiful to look at, just not for me."

"You might think I´m stupid, but reading your stuff for Cultural Affair, I always thought you were the kind of guy who would just jump into things head first, without caution and..."

Timothée stares at Armie slightly surprised, unaware this was the kind of impression he emaned. He notices a slight blush appear on Armie´s cheeks as he stops talking, his eyes instantly turning down to his hand.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn´t have said anything."

"It´s okay, don´t worry."

"You´re not mad?"

"We started off badly, but I´m not the kind of person who gets mad at things so easily. Okay?"

"I´´ll remember that."

Timothée chuckles and rolls his eyes.  _ Okay, maybe he is not so bad after all. _

"I didn´t know people thought that of me, actually. What about my writing makes it seems like I am that person?"

Armie shrugs. "I don´t know. Maybe it was the passion in your writing, or just me projecting a personality into you."

"Are you disappointed with the truth?" Timothée´s voice seems low in contrast with the chanting that comes from the students, but he knows Armie has heard him, specially when he turns to look at him.

"No, not really."

* * *

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Young faces are painted with black and red stripes, while the drums vibrate with every hit, colored powder filling the air. They chant and dance, powerful and yet graceful movements executed in perfect synchrony. They march through the streets of downtown Stanford, fists up in the air, fierce eyes staring into every single person who dares to direct them a look. The youth who will inherit the world, demanding for love and peace.

Through the lens of his camera, Armie watches every step the students take, snapping photos every two seconds, finding new angles, new faces in the crowd, telling a different story with each click of his shutter. He smiles widely, inebriated with pride to be part of something like this and feels his heart nearly combust when he watches a young girl, not older than seven, run over to one of the drummers and help him set the rhythm.

_ This is what I do this for _ , he thinks to himself as he kneels down on the floor, shot after shot of the little girl filling his camera. Once she runs back to her parents, who smile proudly down at her, he gets back up, his eyes taking a quick look around the place for Timothée. While they were on the square, he told him he wasn´t really the type of person to simply jump in and take part of something like this, but Armie had somehow hoped he would eventually change his mind and at least get closer to the group, where he could feel the intensity of the experience easier.

_ He is also doing his job, you idiot. _ He chuckles at himself, staring at Timothée, who leans against a tree and writes something down on his little notebook, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he does so. At least he seems to be having fun, which is more than Armie expected after the previous night they had.

"Come join us," one of the guys from the group says, a large smile on his face as he takes Armie´s hand in his.

Armie nods slowly, secures his camera around his neck and allows the young man to pull him closer to the group. He laughs as he tries to follow their moves, stomping his foot on the ground and clapping his hands together. He feels free, safe and whole; the bad thoughts seem to disappear and he is filled with joy.

The group keeps on walking, exploring every single street of the city, attracting the eyes of everyone in the street, bringing old ladies to their doorsteps and earning cheers from the kids. It feels more than just demanding for change, it feels like bringing people together through art and that's something Armie can identify himself with. While many people, like Timothée, still had some kind of resentment towards him, seeing him as only a social media photographer, who got some visibility through his looks, Armie earned to show the world how everything -even the most painful and scariest moments- can also be beautiful.

When everything starts to calm down it´s almost four in the afternoon and they are back in front of the Basilica, the sun still high in the sky, but the warm weather already starts to cool down a bit. With wide smiles on their faces, some of the organizers get together to look through some of the photographs, showering Armie with praise, which he promptly throws back at them. It feels good to work with people who appreciate his job and don´t have a problem saying it.

"Thank you so much for allowing me to do this," he says. "It was an experience I will never forget."

"We´re the lucky ones, Armie," the guy says with a small nod. "Your photos are brilliant and I have been dying to contact you ever since I first saw them."

"Thank you, Julian."

"Stop thanking me and join us for a beer," he suggests with a wink. "We´re all heading to a bar nearby to celebrate, you should come with us."

"That would be great, but I actually have someone here with me. Do you mind if he tags along?"

"No no, you can bring your boyfriend too, there´s no problem."

"Not my boyfriend, we´re just working together."

"Even better," he smirks, patting Armie´s shoulder before he turns on his heels, heading back to his group.

_ Some guys are not at all subtle, _ he thinks as he chuckles, turning around in search for Timothée. He spots him on the same bench he was in the beginning of the afternoon, heads over to him and sits down beside him, gently nudging him.

"So, what did you think?"

"These people are amazing," Timothée admits in awe. "Every single step they took seemed so powerful, but yet so graceful and filled with emotions. I think they did a great job and I even managed to get some nice photos on my phone, so I assume your job was very rewarding."

"It truly was, I got some incredible shots."

As he goes through some of the photos, Armie watches as Timothée leans closer to him, taking a peek at them as well. He stares at him for a moment, not sure why, but finding the proximity of them a bit unsettling. As Timothée moves, Armie quickly snaps out of his trace and swiftly shifts his gaze back to the photos.

"So, some of them are going to a bar nearby to celebrate their success and they asked if we wanted to tag along. Are you in?"

"I never say no to a bar," Timothée says matter of factly, while turning to face Armie, who chuckles. "And if I´ll have to endure a whole night of camping, I might as well get wasted."

"You hate camping that much?"

"Yes, I do. But like you said, I'm supposed to be your shadow for the next two weeks, so I´ll endure everything you throw at me."

"You´re one tough cookie," Armie mocks as Timothée rolls his eyes and gets up. "What?"

"Where´s this bar?"

**  
  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The bar was small and owned by the father of one of the students, which resulted in lots of drinks at a very low price and therefore, half the people were drunk by the time it hit six in the afternoon. Sitting on a far corner of the counter, swirling around on his little stool, Timothée has his hand tightly wrapped around his beer bottle, while his eyes wander around the dimmed room. Most of the students are gathered in the center, dancing and talking, while the others are spread around the place, either talking more privately or making out with someone.

Armie is one of those people of course.

He's on the opposite side of the bar, backed up against a wall while one of the organizers nearly climbs him, his hands holding tight onto his shirt as he kisses him with such intensity, Timothée might think he will end up swallowing him whole. He chuckles, takes a few sips of his beer and for a brief second thinks of how fun it would be to interrupt him, make Armie feel the same thing he felt the night before.

_ You might be a petty bitch, but you´re not that petty _ . He shrugs, finishes off his beer and promptly asks for another one, thanking the middle aged man behind the counter as he slides yet another Corona towards him. He grabs the lemon, sucks on it for a second and then takes a sip, his eyes wandering to the brunette woman that sits next to him.

"You´re here with Armie, right?"

"Yeah, that´s right."

"Are you his boyfriend?"

"I doubt I´d be sitting here drinking if my boyfriend was making out with some random guy right in front of me," he says with a wink as the girl chuckles.

"Well, I know Julian and he can be quite the whore when he wants to," she shrugs. "I saw you two coming in together and chatting for a bit, so when I saw him and Julian together, I thought I should come and ask, but I apologize if I was out of line."

"Don´t worry, it´s okay," Timothée assures her. "I´m actually working with Armie."

"You´re a photographer too?"

"No, I´m a writer for a magazine and I´m spending a few days with him so I can write a profile on him."

"Oh, that sounds so fucking cool. What is this magazine you work for? Have I ever heard of it?"

"I don´t know," he chuckles. "Do you read Cultural Affair?"

"Of course I do, it´s unbelievable."

"There you go, in a few weeks you´ll be seeing a profile on Armie there."

"That´s so amazing. Are some of our photos from today gonna be featured there?"

"Oh, I get it, you want free promotion."

She shrugs, a little smile on her face.

"It doesn´t hurt to try."

Timothée nods in agreement. "I can´t guarantee, but there´s a big chance this might happen, yeah."

"I´ll look forward to it then," she pats his back before hopping off of the stool, her eyes wandering over to Armie and Julian, before she turns back to Timothée. "I think you and Armie make a cuter couple than him and Julian, by the way."

Timothée stares at her in pure silence, words completely disappearing as he processes what he has just heard. He blinks a couple of times, frowns and allows his eyes to wander back to Armie, who is now talking with Julian, his hand gently messing with the guy´s hair.

"What the fuck is wrong with that girl?," he asks himself before chugging down his beer, the liquid burning down his throat.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Armie stands in the middle of the field, camera in hand and eyes sharp. He observes the nature around him with glee, his mind in peace as he hears the birds and owls on the distance. He snaps a couple of photographs, trying to capture in his camera the beauty he sees in person, but no matter how great it comes out, there are things in life that can only be truly appreciated by the naked eye.

He closes his eyes, a smile on his lips as he inhales deeply, the fresh air consuming him. He opens his eyes when he hears a loud groan and turns around, eyebrows furrowed as he watches Timothée struggle to keep the tent standing up. He bites his lip, trying his best not to laugh at the scene that unfolds just a couple feet away from him, but breaks down the moment Timothée falls on his ass, pieces of the tent on his hand and a desperate look in his eyes.

"Would you mind helping me instead of just laughing?"

"I told you I´d work on the tent, I just needed a couple of minutes."

"And I told you I wanted to do it, because there's no way I´m simply gonna stand here out in the open. The sooner I sleep, the sooner this is all over and we can move on to the next city."

"You really hate camping that much?"

"Yes, I do."

"Did you have a traumatic experience or you..."

"Can you just make sure this tent is actually standing? I´m starting to get cold and I want to lie down for a bit."

Armie nods, hands Timothée the camera and stands beside the tent, taking one good look at the mess Timothée has done. He kneels down, reaching for a couple of the tent´s poles, removing some from their previous place and applying in others, slowly but surely getting the tent to actually look like one, instead of whatever Timothée had done with it.

Less than five minutes later, Armie has everything done and crawls inside the tent, throwing their backpacks and sleeping bags inside. He arches an eyebrow, confused on why Timothée would still be outside once he was so desperate for the tent to be up, pokes his head out and watches in silence as he sits down on a rock, eyes down on his camera.

"It´s all done, you can get some sleep now."

"When did you take these photos?", Timothée asks slightly confused, turning the camera to Armie, who shrugs his shoulders.

"Yesterday when we stopped at the lookout. You didn´t like it?"

"Is not that, I just...", he shrugs, not really sure of what to say. "They look great and so does every single one from the protest. You really did a good job."

"For an instagram photographer, you mean?"

Armie watches as Timothée´s cheek suddenly turns a bright shade of pink, his eyes avoiding him at any cost. He smirks despite the silence, finding amusement in a situation most would have it as awkward.

"I should probably apologize,” Timothée finally says as he gets up, handing the camera back to Armie. "I took conclusions of who you were before even talking to you, and I´m afraid I allowed those conclusions to interfere on the way I approach you, which might have made me look like a bigger asshole than I really am."

"So you´re not denying the fact you´re an asshole?"

"Well, I know myself,” he smirks while crawling inside the tent, his eyes wandering around the place for a second. "Anyway, like I said this morning, we might have started off on the wrong track, but I want to make sure this trip goes as smoothly as possible."

"You don´t have to apologize, okay? You don´t know me, you were basically forced to work with me, I didn´t expect us to be best friends or anything. I just want to make sure you also enjoy this experience as much as I am, even if this is a job for you."

"This is a job for you, too."

"True, but I only answer to myself. You, on the other hand, has an editor to report to."

"I can handle Zoe", he says before slamming his hand against his arm. "But the mosquitos? I´m not so sure of that."

Armie smirks, shaking his head as he lies down on top of his sleeping bag. He rests his head above his arm, closes his eyes for a brief moment, but opens an eye as he hears Timothée moving around constantly.

"Are you that annoyed by camping you can´t even keep yourself quiet?"

"I can´t find my phone, I think I left in the bag at the car."

"Well, there´s no signal here, so there´s really no need for a phone anyway."

"What? There´s no signal?" Armie simply shakes his head. "What if there´s an emergency? If we get attacked or you get a heart attack, what am I supposed to do?"

"I got checked out just a couple weeks ago, I´m totally fine, dude."

"That´s not the point, okay? We need some sort of communication with the outside world or..."

Armie frowns, eyes moving around as he pays close attention to every single expression and gesture Timothée makes. He ain´t no expert, but he's almost sure the guy is about to start hyperventilating.

"Okay, you need to calm down."

"What?"

"You're freaking out and I'm starting to get scared," he admits as Timothée sighs, burying his face in his hands. "Seriously, if you want I can drive you back to the Inn. You don´t have to stay here if you don´t want to, you don´t really have to be around me twenty-four hours a day."

"It´s okay, I can do this."

"Are you sure?"

Timothée nods, sliding inside the sleeping bag. He bites his lip, eyes stuck to the top of the tent as he feels every rock and pebble underneath his body. Yeah, he´s being a little dramatic, but he has his reasons.

"Maybe if we focus on something else you can forget about where you are?"

"I can feel the dirt underneath me, I doubt I will be able to forget where I am, but sure."

"Did you like the protest?"

"Seriously?"

"You truly are an asshole," he mumbles as Timothée shoots him a look. "Did you have fun at the bar?"

"I did, until a girl came to me and asked if I was your boyfriend."

"I´m sorry?"

"She saw us coming in together and then you making out with the Twilight guy, so she got a bit worried about me and decided to go and ask me."

"What did you just call him?"

"Twilight guy," he repeats. "C´mon, you must have noticed how he looked exactly like the father from the Twilight movies."

"The only thing I get from this conversation is that you watched the Twilight movies."

"I was a fucking teenager, of course I did."

"The real question here is, were you team Jacob or team Edward?"

Timothée frowns, but chuckles as Armie wiggles his eyebrows. "Are you always that stupid?"

"Don´t dodge the question, Chalamet."

"I make the questions around here, not you."

"So you´ll leave this trip knowing everything about me, while I will remain knowing next to nothing about you?"

Timothée nods, a large -and yet fake- smile on his face before he turns to the side and closes his eyes, doing his best to relax.

Amused, Armie stares at him for a minute, a little smile appearing on the corner of his lips.

"Good night, asshole."

"Good night."


	6. Imagine Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy session

"Dutch kids huff balloons in the parking lot..."

Timothée looks at Armie from the corner of his eye, his lips involuntarily turning into a smile as he notices the excitement with which he sings along to the music, his fingers eagerly tapping on the steering wheel. Armie seems like a completely different person this morning, more reinvigorated and alive, which to Timothée sounds weird after a whole night sleeping on the ground. They really are very different people.

He chuckles to himself, turns back to the front and leans his feet on the dash, his own fingers slowly starting to tap on the door of the car. It's only the start of their third day of the trip, yet Timothée can feel himself a lot more at ease around Armie and with the situation. A part of him is still slightly scared things might end badly, that either him or Armie will eventually fuck it up and mess up this whole trip; but at the same time there's some growing hope inside of him, something that says they will make it through. Maybe they can even end this trip as good friends.

_ Now you're exaggerating, dude _ . He thinks to himself before the loud music brings him back to reality. He frowns, turning his eyes to Armie, who is even more excited by the time the chorus comes along. He nearly shouts the lyrics to the song, his whole body moving around and even behind his sunglasses, Timothée can notice his blissful eyes. It's been a while since he ever saw someone so excited by a random song.

"You can join me, you know?", Armie says and Timothée looks at him confused. "No one will know you were singing songs that are not part of your repertoire."

He can't help but chuckle, shaking his head as he turns his eyes back to the road, watching as trees pass them by.

"You still haven't told me where we are headed."

"Why did I send you an itinerary if you don't even check it?"

"To be fair, I only checked that itinerary once, and I was a lot more focused on you agreeing to my ground rules."

"Which I read at least three times to make sure I'd follow them," Armie steals a quick glance at him, who rolls his eyes. "New Haven."

"What?"

"We're headed to New Haven for the day."

Timothée nods, pushing some of his curls back.

"And what are you doing in New Haven?" He watches as Armie turns to him, a smirk on his face as he shrugs. "Please, tell me there isn't more camping involved."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head.

"No, there's no camping, you can chill out."

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath, his foot tapping the dash to the rhythm of the song. "Are you visiting Yale?"

"It's part of my plans. There are some incredible buildings there and I want to explore it as much as possible, but I still have to stop by and talk to the dean. We exchanged a couple of emails and he seemed cool with the idea, but asked me to stop by and talk to him once I was there."

"Are there any college bars involved in your schedule? Because, I'll be honest with you, that's the only thing I miss from my college days."

Armie chuckles. He's pretty sure that's the sentiment of at least eighty percent of students.

"What college did you go to?"

"I'm the one who gets to make questions here."

"Are you seriously gonna ignore every single question I ask you?" Timothée shrugs, a little grin on his face. "So by the end of these two weeks, you'll know everything about me, but I won't even know the college you went to?"

"I went to Columbia, Armie."

"Fancy guy," he mumbles as Timothée shakes his head. "Journalism?"

"Journalism, yeah," he says and bites his lip, already growing a bit uncomfortable at the fact he's become the center of conversation. Desperate to change the subject, he sighs, turning to face Armie. "Do you have anything in particular you want to photograph in New Haven? Besides Yale, I mean."

"I've told you already, I don't really have plans. Some things are discussed early because of authorization and all that crap, but I like to figure things out as they go. I want the place and the people to inspire me, drive me towards something worth photographing."

"Ugh, you're such a character."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're like a guy straight out of a CW show. You're tall, handsome, tanned and no matter what you're talking about you always talk with passion and..."

"You think I'm handsome?"

"Seriously?" He arches an eyebrow. "I'm sure you had people saying that your entire life, don't act surprised now."

"I'll admit I always had people compliment me for my looks, but I did not expect such a thing from you."

"Well, I have eyes, don't I?"

Armie laughs, shaking his head.

"Are you seriously always like this?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You always have this serious face and an aggressive attitude. Like, you're complimenting me and yet, there's still a hint of aggression in your tone of voice."

Timothée shrugs. "Can't help it, it's just who I am."

"Yeah, I'm slowly figuring that out."

"I'm aggressive and you have the personality of a teddy bear, it's the..."

"Perfect match?"

Timothée chuckles, leaning back on the seat as he puts on his sunglasses. "I was going to say it's the worst possible match, but be my guess."

Armie looks at Timothée, unable not to chuckle at his remark. The guy sure is something else, but he has a feeling by the time the trip is over, they will be at least good friends.

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

By the time they make it to the parking lot of the Inn, it's nine in the morning and there's barely any spots left, giving away that the place might be a lot more crowded than anyone could have expected. Patiently, Armie slows down and once he finally finds a spot, reverses the car into position.

Timothée is out of the car in a matter of seconds, backpack hanging from his left shoulder as he stretches his legs and waits for Armie. He yawns, his body still a bit sore from a whole night of the ground and a tingle of headache creeping up on him, which he can only attribute to a night of constantly waking up to every single noise he heard around him, even if most of the times it was only Armie snoring.

Happy to finally be able to stretch out his legs, even if it was only a forty minutes drive, Armie hops off of the car and reaches for his backpack on the backseat. He looks around the place for a second, grabs his phone and makes sure he has the reservation confirmation on his email, in case anything happens. Although everything worked out well in the end, Armie had gone through way too much stress on his last trip and learned a valuable lesson with it.

With a smile on his face, he gestures for Timothée to follow him and walks down the parking lot, heading inside the large and well decorated building. This Inn is a lot bigger than the last, which shouldn't really be a surprise to him. When you have a university like Yale in town, the hotels and Inns have to be at a different level.

Behind the front desk, there's a woman in her late twenties, blonde hair perfectly tied in a ponytail, a light make-up and well fitted dress. It doesn't take long for her to spot them, her eyes wandering from the computer to them while a large and warm smile takes over her face. She gets up from her chair, opens a large book and nods in Armie's direction as he leans against the counter.

"Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Good morning," Armie replies with a smile. "I have a reservation under the name Hammer."

"Just a moment," she says while turning to the computer, swiftly typing his name. Silence ensues while she scrolls through the pages, her manicured nails tapping on the wooden counter. "Mr. Hammer, you had a reservation for a single bedroom, but then changed to two. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Is everything alright?"

"There's a business convention taking place throughout the week, so the city is packed. Unfortunately, by the time you called we didn't have any single bedrooms available anymore, but we can upgrade you to a double bedroom."

There's a moment of pure silence, Armie's eyes wandering from the woman to Timothée. One of his ground rules was to make sure they always had separated rooms, which sounds both silly and understandable to Armie. They barely know each other and they are already spending nearly every single second of the day together, maybe it would be better to stay in separate bedrooms and guarantee some kind of privacy.

"This bedroom has two beds, right?"

Timothée's voice echoes, snapping Armie from his train of thought. He looks at him with an eyebrow arched, then turns to the woman, who nods, the wide and welcoming smile never leaving her lips.

"The room has one double bed, but we can add a single one for you, if that's what you'd like."

"Then we'll take it," he says with a quick nod. As he turns to Armie, Timothée frowns, unsure of why he is staring at him like that. "What's wrong?"

"I thought your rules shouldn't be broken," he teases.

"We shared a tent last night and I had to hear you snoring, I think I can handle us in the same bedroom."

"What an improvement."

Timothée rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

"Here you go," the woman says while walking back to them, sliding one keycard to each one of them. "You're staying in room 224 and you can use all of our facilities, your bedroom has a bathtub, television and a mini bar. The breakfast buffet is open, you can enjoy it while we set up your new bedroom."

"Thank you very much," Armie says ever so charming, taking the keycard in his hands and stuffing it inside his pocket. He swings his backpack over his shoulder, waving at the woman before he follows Timothée to the breakfast buffet, the smell of food filling his nostrils.

He quickly heads to the buffet, filling a plate with bread, cheese and ham. He pours himself a large mug of coffee, taking a few sips of it before he even reaches the table. He sits down, phone in hand while he scrolls through some of his messages, the group chat he has with Lee and Taylor filled with messages.

**_< lee>_ ** _ hows the trip going??? _

**_< taylor>_ ** _ is the guy ok? _

_ or should we go save u? _

**_< lee>_ ** _ hes twice our size taylor _

_ i doubt he needs our help to deal with the guy _

**_< taylor>_ ** _ u never know lee _

_ u never know _

_ besides _

_ u were the one who said that thing about psychopaths, right???? _

**_< lee>_ ** _ shut up _

_ … _

_ why is he so silent? _

**_< taylor>_ ** _ what r the chances he already scored w/ the guy? _

**_< lee>_ ** _ is a work thing _

**_< taylor>_ ** _ yeah _

_ cuz that has ever stopped him b4 _

Armie shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he reads the messages.

**_< armie>_ ** _ im doing alright _

_ timothee is not that bad actually _

_ and yes, taylor, i am a professional _

_ i dont usually sleep w/ people i work with _

_ so fuck off _

**_< taylor>_ ** _ hes alive!!!!! _

"You know it is rude to use your phone during meals, right?"

Armie raises his gaze, arching an eyebrow as Timothée sits across from him, a smirk on his face while he stirs the spoon inside his cereal bowl.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm a guy of manners, I hope others are too."

Armie scoffs, which earns him a glare from Timothée.

"A guy of manners, yeah, right."

"What? I am."

"Maybe you are, I just haven't met this side of yours still."

Timothée shrugs, takes a bite of his toast and then reaches for his notepad and pencil, placing them on top of the table.

"Okay, since we don't really have shit to do and follow you around will only get me so far, can I ask you a couple of questions?"

"Sure," Armie says with a mouthful, placing his phone down. "What exactly do you wanna know?"

"More about your childhood to begin with. You said you only settled down in New York when you were thirteen, right?"

He nods while swallowing a piece of cheese, then wipes his mouth with the fancy napkin lying on his lap.

"When I was thirteen my dad decided it was time to stop, so we settled down in New York, since that's where he and my mom are from. My mom devoted herself to the housework and her garden, my dad gave lectures in universities and I was finally able to be in a school for longer than a few months, make friends and act like a normal teenager, you know?"

"Did you like school?"

"I didn't despise it, but I can't really say I loved it either."

"Am I right to assume you were the popular kid?"

Armie chuckles. "You have a very clear image of who I am, don't you?"

"Trust me," Timothée takes a sip of his juice. "I don't even know what to think anymore."

"I wasn't Prom King or a football player, if that's what you want to know. People knew me, but only because I always liked to talk to everyone. Lee was the only true friend I had during school, everyone else was just colleges."

"Had a lot of those," he mumbles as Armie frowns. "Anyway, what was your favorite subject?"

"History and English."

"Least favorite?"

"Math and chemistry."

Timothée smirks, but doesn't say a word and Armie can't help but wonder what is so amusing about that. Just like Timothée, he doesn't say a word either and resorts to eating his bagel while he writes something down on his notepad.

"Were you into any kind of sports?"

"I played volleyball sometimes, but I was never really into sports. My favorite thing to do was run to Central Park after school was over, ride my bike and watch the people around me, sit down on the grass and photograph everything that felt interesting to me. Sometimes Lee would join me, which means I wouldn't get much done, but I laughed like crazy, which was just as great."

"Are you even real?"

"What?"

Timothée scoffs, shaking his head. "You're a teenager, who's favorite afternoon consisted of going to Central Park to take photos? You see what I mean when I say you seem to come straight out of a television show?"

Armie leans forward on the table, narrowed eyes locked on Timothée. "I still don't get if this is supposed to be a compliment or not."

"It's complicated," he admits. "What I mean is, sometimes it feels like you're not even real. You´re smiling all the time, you meet someone and it's like you've known them your entire life. It feels like you're always in a good mood and..."

Timothée trails off, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back on the chair. He scratches his neck, bites on his lip and stares at Armie for a moment.

"Sorry, I feel like I'm just rambling right now. I guess what I'm trying to say is, that looking at you, the past two days and a half, it seems to me you have a perfect life."

"My life is far from perfect, Timothée."

He nods. "I know, such a thing doesn't exist, but yours does seem pretty good."

"You have a great job, which allows you to meet new places and people. You seem to be fairly confident in yourself, you're intelligent and even if you try to hide it, I know you have a sense of humor buried deep inside. Your life seems pretty damn good to me."

"I don't think my life is that good."

"Because you're the one living it and we always think others have a better life than ours, just like you're doing with me right now," he shrugs, a little smile on his face. "Timothée, I didn't have a real friend until I was thirteen. Everytime I made it to a new school, I was shy and distant because everyone knew I was the son of the diplomat and the kids would whisper around the corridors, mostly what they heard from their parents. I spent a couple of years struggling with my sexuality, fearing that my parents wouldn't accept me as I was. And then, when I finally had everything that made my life seem perfect, I found out that my mother has a rare type of cancer and my world turns upside down. So maybe I do seem to always be happy and in my best mood, but the reality is I'm just trying to get through this crazy world of ours, just like everyone else."

Timothée blinks a couple of times, the words escaping him as he stares at Armie in pure silence. The words seem to repeat themselves inside his head, the way Armie's voice cracked when he mentioned his mother quite telling of how much he is affected by it, as anyone would.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to say, although his voice is low, almost a whisper. "When you said your mom was sick, I just didn't... I'm sorry."

"It's okay, don't worry."

Timothée nods, averting his eyes from Armie. He sighs as silence takes them over, each one focused on their own breakfast.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Shortly after their breakfast, Timothée and Armie rushed to their bedroom, which was a lot more than any of them could have expected to be. They had a small balcony, where they could see a park on the distant and the old buildings that surround the entire city. Tired, but knowing they had a full day ahead of them -or at least Armie had-, Timothée took a quick cold shower, changed his clothes to something lighter and then patiently waited for Armie, who spent nearly an hour inside the bathroom doing Lord knows what.

By the time they left the hotel, it was nearly eleven in the morning and they drove off straight to campus. Walking through those gates felt a bit surreal to Timothée, since for years he had dreamt of enrolling in the prestigious university. Columbia turned out to be great and exactly what he needed for himself, but as he stepped inside that campus, breathed in the fresh air and walked through the same pathways so many famous and important people had, he could feel a tingle of resentment build up inside of him.

He pushed that thought back though, and focused on the important things. He was inside the campus, staring at those buildings, soaking in the knowledge of the place, and that truly was all that mattered. He smiles at himself at the thought, feeling a bit silly for allowing a place to touch him in such a way, but he had always been like this in his life; places like Yale, so packed with history always had a special place in his heart.

And now, he was sitting in the waiting room to Yale´s Dean office, tapping his foot on the waxed wooden floor and nearly chewing on his bottom lip as he prayed that Armie got access to the campus, so he could at least be able to walk through those buildings and see the true beauty of each one of them.  _ Three days in and you´re already hooting for the guy, who would've thought _ .

The moment he hears the door open, Timothée jumps up from the leather couch, hands turned into fists as his eyes wander to Armie, who shakes hands with the Dean. He bounces from one foot to the other and scratches the back of his neck, silently watching the exchange until the door closes behind Armie, who sighs and scratches his stubble.

"So," he trails off, curiosity taking him over.

"He agreed," Armie smiles while waving two small cards in his hand. "He gave us credentials that give us access to almost all the facilities on campus."

"Are you serious right now?"

Armie nods, arching an eyebrow. "Now, this is the first time I see you smiling this enthusiastically."

"I´m not even gonna lie, I absolutely love this place, okay? I wanted to enroll here, but there were many variables stopping me from doing so."

"Are you serious?", Armie asks with a smug grin on his face. "Aren´t you glad I invited you for this trip?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"Hey, don´t forget I still got your credential with me."

Timothée sighs, shaking his head. "You made me sleep on a fucking tent, giving me the opportunity to walk around this campus is the least you can do."

"For how long you´re gonna use the camping thing against me?"

"How long is the trip again?"

He smirks, watching as Armie rolls his eyes and hands him one of the credentials. He smiles down at it, excitement taking him over as he follows Armie down the hallway and out of the small building. He looks around the place, the trees and vibrant aura of the people around him making him feel strangely at home.

"So," Armie´s voice startles him and Timothée looks up at him slightly confused. "Do you want to be my assistant for the day?"

"What?"

"Since you have to follow me around, wouldn´t you like to do something instead of just wandering around in the shadows?"

"Are you gonna make me hold your bags and stuff while you take pictures?"

"Maybe," he says almost in a singing tone. "I can talk you through everything I do, which will help you get a better understanding of what I do and therefore, give you more information to write your profile."

"So thoughtful," Timothée jokes as Armie shrugs his shoulders. He chuckles, nodding his head and frowns as Armie hands him a small bag, filled with lens. "Do you really need all of these?"

"Maybe not, but I like to make sure I'm prepared. Like I said, I don´t really plan anything in advance, I like when the places and the people inspire me, so I might as well have everything I can carry."

"Seems reasonable," he admits. "I mean, you´re chaotic, but this part kind of has some reasoning."

"So let me get this straight. I´m chaotic, handsome, way too enthusiastic about things and people, not to mention the fact I look like I come straight out of a CW show... I´m not sure what to do with all of this."

"Maybe you could shut up and take your photos? I really want to get to know this place and we don´t have all day."

Armie nods, gesturing for Timothée to follow, which he gladly does. His eyes move from the buildings surrounding them to the bag filled with lens, which he carefully takes in his hands and inspects it. He always liked taking photos, but he never really understood much about the process on a professional level. So in some way, it was actually quite interesting to follow Armie around, even if he sometimes stressed him beyond words.

They enter a small and dark building, a long corridor on the left side and an open gallery on the right. Completely amused by it, Timothée takes a while to actually pay attention to Armie, who´s wandered off down the hallway. He finally notices him walking away, sighs and quickly follows, eyes nearly sparkling when they reach a small room, with large glass windows that bring in the Sunlight, which perfectly illuminates a statue that stands in the middle.

"Fuck, this place is stunning."

"It really is."

"Imagine walking through these hallways every single day. Do you think these people understand just how lucky they are?"

"I´m sure some do, but I´m afraid a lot of them don´t stop to look around them. Is a shame really, because a place like this deserves all the attention it can get."

Timothée simply nods, Armie´s words and the beauty in front of him stopping him from forming any coherent words. He smiles to himself, takes a turn around the place and then walks to Armie, who ́s kneeling on the floor, taking the lens out of his camera.

"Give me the bag," he asks while reaching out for Timothée, who promptly hands him the bag and kneels down right beside him.

In silence, Timothée observes as Armie changes the lens and moves the shutter before aiming the camera to the statue, snapping a couple of photos. Looking over his shoulder, Timothée tries to see things through his angle, soaking in the magic he sees.

"Wanna try?"

"What?"

Armie chuckles at the tone of his voice. "Is not that difficult of a question, Tim."

_ Tim _ . It´s the first time Armie calls him that and it seems a bit too soon for such intimacy, but for some reason he doesn´t protest.

"I´ll take that as a no."

"No," he says quickly while shaking his head. "I mean, yes, I would like to try."

Armie smiles and hands him the camera, which Timothée stares at almost as if it was some sort of alien life. He bites his lip, aims the camera at the statue and snaps a photo, zooming in on it soon after he does it.

"I don´t think it´s good."

"You just aimlessly pointed up and snapped a photo, Tim. You need to understand the angles, see what looks better on the screen. You have to compose the photo, take a good look at every single fragment in frame and try to understand how you can bring them all together perfectly. It´s like writing an article, you have many pieces, but you have to figure out in what order they fit better, or else it doesn´t make sense."

Timothée frowns for a second, but then nods his head and aims the camera back at the statue, changing the angles a couple of times before he finally snaps another photo. He looks down, a smile on the corner of his lips as he notices how much better than the first one it looks.

"So?"

"I think it looks okay, but you´re the professional."

"So I´m not just an Instagram Photographer after all?"

Timothée stares back at Armie, a small smile on his face as he shakes his head.

"No, no you´re not."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

His fingers trace the line of books that are perfectly stacked on the shelf, his blue eyes wandering up and down the place, while a smile takes over his face. Armie had always loved books, and ever since he was a little kid, libraries had the tendency of taking his breath away, so to be standing right in the middle of what might be one of the greatest libraries in the world leaves his heart beating faster and causes his childlike wonder to intensify.

In moments like this, everything is much more intriguing and exciting than it normally would be, but he ravishes on such feeling, making sure to enjoy every second he has. He looks up to the ceiling, eyes nearly sparkling as he pays close attention to the magnificent work of architecture, the high columns, the colorful and detailed paintings. Armie could easily stay there forever and he would never get tired.

He takes his camera out, snaps a couple photos of the ceiling and then moves around the large room, picking up books and flipping through some pages. It takes him a few minutes to actually take his eyes away from the books, spotting Timothée on the other side of the room, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips as he notices the glow in his face is much similar to his.

Armie stops for a moment, realizing just how pleasurable the day has actually been and how much fun it was to spend it with Timothée. There were no arguments, no confusion or misunderstandings, no stress; just two guys hanging out and finding a way to have a good time together, even if they are quite different.  _ Are you though? _ He asks himself, while aiming the camera in Timothée´s direction. Sure, they seem to approach the world in different ways, but that doesn´t mean they are completely opposites.

He adjusts the focus, turning Timothée into the main subject, then snaps a couple of photos, playing with the light and contrast. He checks the photo, smiles to himself and then aims it in his direction once again, snapping a couple more before Timothée fully comprehends what is happening. He chuckles, wiggling his brows as Timothée frowns, rolling his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Armie puts the camera down, scrolling through some of the latest photos as he shrugs.

"I´m doing my job."

"You´re taking photos of me," Timothée protests. "That´s not part of your job."

"Says who?" Armie lets the camera hang from his neck, his hands gesturing around the library. "The moment we walked inside this room, we became part of its element, we are just as part of this library as the books. Not to mention, you´re quite photogenic."

Timothée´s eyes find his for a brief moment, but he quickly averts his gaze, shaking his head.

"You sure have a way with words," Timothée admits, although he keeps his head down the entire time. "But I doubt I´m more photogenic than this library."

"I never said that," Armie replies while leaning against one of the tables spread around the room. "There are different ways of being photogenic, you can´t compare yourself to a room, that´s ridiculous. This place is ancient, it carries with it the story and struggles of all the men who helped it put together, who probably never got the recognition they deserved for it. You on the other hand, you carry your own struggles, paired with eyes that want to tell a story, but a brain that keeps you from delivering it. I don´t know why you do it though."

The silence that swiftly fills the library is quite telling. Armie knows he is right, that he has hit a sore spot; while Timothée, tries his best to keep himself together and not let it show just how much those words have affected him. People don´t normally read him so well and so easily, but somehow, Armie has seem to be able to do it and Timothée hates that.

"Are you a photographer or a psychologist?"

"Would you be surprised if I told you my professor actually encouraged me to take a year of psychology classes?"

"What?"

"He used to say the best way to photograph something was to understand it, desire it even. You can´t fully understand something, or someone, if you don´t understand their brain. So I took one year of psychology classes and maybe they didn´t influence at all in my art, but they have given me the ability to understand those around me better."

Now Timothée really hates the path this conversation is taking. He doesn´t want to become Armie´s patient, sit down and unravel the demons of his past. He just wants to do his job.

He shakes his head and in complete silence, walks past Armie and over to the large windows that overlook campus. He stands there quietly, getting his thoughts back in order while on the distance he hears Armie´s footsteps.

Armie stops by Timothée´s side, maintaining the silence while he looks out to the busy campus beneath them, students and professors walking around while the Sun starts to set on the distance.

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, he´s nine years old again, standing by the window of the apartment, watching kids rush over to school. There´s snow falling on the ground, the monumental buildings that give life to Yale´s main campus on the distance and the smell of his mother´s chocolate chip cookies filling the air. He smiles to himself, closes his eyes and it´s almost as if he can taste the cookies in his mouth, the chewy and yet crunchy texture taking over his tongue.

"You alright?"

Timothée´s voice brings him back to reality and Armie opens his eyes, nodding his head slowly.

"We lived here for seven months when I was nine," Armie finally says, earning a weird look from Timothée. “You have no idea how many times I stood by the window, or at the front steps of the building, watching this place from afar, wondering just how amazing they truly were. I was nine, so obviously I imagined dragons and fantastic creatures living among these walls, but mainly I just wanted to know if they were as beautiful as I imagined."

"Is that why you wanted to come here?"

"Yes," he nearly whispers while turning to look at Timothée. "I had the opportunity to finally make my dream come true and I took it. I didn´t know I was making yours too, but guess it worked out just fine."

"I guess it did."

Armie pushes himself off of the wall, walks over to one of the many tables and takes hold of the books he had got, placing them back on their rightful place. He looks over his shoulder, smiles to himself and then whistles, catching Timothée´s attention.

"You still want to hit one of those student´s bars?" Armie asks, a cheeky grin taking over his face.

"You know any cool places?"

"Nope," he reaches for his phone, waving it at Timothée´s direction. "But I´m sure Google can help us with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you see them slowly moving forward? The question is, will Timmy ever let his guard down?


	7. 20 Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little by little...

The lights are dimmed, the fancy chandeliers on the ceiling are a nice touch to the edgy and rough visual of the pub, which gathers more and more people as the hours pass. The bartenders seem mostly unfazed by the crowd, doing their work almost as if they were robots programmed for this. Take the bottle out of the pantry, add to the glasses, slide it to the customer and start all over again from step one. A job that can be both stressful and boring.

The one who slides the six shots of tequila towards Timothée and Armie clearly falls into the bored category, his face passive and not even an outline of a small smile as Armie ever so charming thanks him. He simply turns around to the nearest customer, even forgetting to give them more slices of lemon. Already half drunk, Timothée chuckles, leans forward on the counter and grabs the lemons himself, placing three on Armie's hand while he keeps the remaining ones.

With a cheeky grin on his face, he raises his glass, toasts with Armie and promptly takes the shot, swiftly licking the salt and stuffing the lemon slice inside his mouth. The liquid burns, but it's the good kind of burning, the kind that makes you crave for more, even if he knows the headache that will haunt him the next day will be a killer one.

He blinks a couple of times, allowing his body and throat to get used to the sensation before he reaches for another glass and repeats the same process again. As Armie groans, Timothée can't help but chuckle, amused to see the many expressions that go through his face. At least when it comes to drinking it seems like they are quite similar, which he assumes doesn't really mean much; drunk people are usually all quite similar, they all start out happy and end up crying and puking.

"Okay, last one and then we go hit the dance floor."

"Speak for yourself," Armie shakes his head, taking another glass in his hand. "I rather hit up that girl across the room."

"Which one?"

"The brunette with dark red lipstick and big green eyes," he explains as Timothée nods. "She's absolutely gorgeous and we chatted a bit earlier today."

"Don't forget we're sharing a bedroom, Hammer."

Armie rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers to bring Timothée's attention back to the drinks and nods his head. They repeat the same process once again, toast, tequila shot, salt and lemon, followed by the usual grunting from the burning of the throat. By the time the night ends, they will both have each other's silly drinking expressions engraved in their brains.

"Okay, I'm going to the dance floor."

"Have fun."

"Trust me, I will."

With a pat on Armie's back, Timothée swiftly hops off of the stool and rushes over to the middle of the dance floor, talented feet moving around the wooden floor as he lets himself go completely. It's always a joy to Timothée to be dancing, one of the rare occasions he doesn't complain about a crowd surrounding him. He laughs, moves his body and rolls his shoulders, attracting the eyes of some of his fellow dancers.

It doesn't take much longer for a guy to approach him, his shaved head and chocolate skin sparkling Timothée's interest. The guy's hand finds its way to his waist, keeping his body close as they move to the rhythm of the beat, a sensual and yet fun dance. Timothée laughs, exchanges a few words with the guy, their eyes locked on one another's for most of the time.

"Wanna go outside?"

Timothée nods, following the guy to a less crowded area on the back of the pub, where a couple people sit down and smoke. He's pressed against the wall moments later, the guy's lips on his while he holds onto his waist. He's a good kisser, he has to admit that, but he also had better ones. That doesn't stop him though and they remain in place, hands gently exploring one another's body, while their lips move together eagerly.

Timothée pulls away when air is needed, his fingers running through his messy curls in a failed attempt to tame them. He stands there quietly, an awkward silence taking over for a good minute before the man starts talking. Instantly, Timothée regrets his decision, because if the guy can be considered an average kisser, when it comes to an actual conversation he is simply inadequate.

_ Why are you still listening to this? _ He asks himself after a couple of minutes, a fake smile plastered on his face as he nods his head in agreement to whatever the man said. He holds onto his arm, excuses himself for a moment and rushes inside the pub again, joining the crowd to try and dismiss the guy. He walks back to the bar, orders a beer and leans against the counter, eyes wandering around the area until he spots Armie on the other side of the room. He is laughing, while the brunette he had talked about whispers something in his ear, her hand resting on his chest.

"Your beer," he turns around, nodding at the bartender and grabs the bottle, taking a few sips of it right away. His eyes wander around the place once more, a smirk on his face as he notices a dart board near the front door.

He chugs on the beer, lazily moving across the place, doing his best not to bump into anyone and grabs a couple of darts, rolling his shoulders as he prepares himself to throw one. He squints his eyes, fully concentrated on his task and throws the dart forward, watching it hit an area near the bullseye.  _ Not too shabby _ , he smiles to himself.

"Can I join?"

Timothée looks over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow as he sees Armie standing there, a hand on his hip while he chugs on his beer.

"Where's your friend?"

"Had to go to the bathroom, so I took the opportunity to get the hell out of there."

"You seemed to be enjoying her company," he replies.

"Where you spying on me, Chalamet?"

"I have better things to do then spy on you, Hammer. You are enormous though, so it's not that difficult to spot you in a crowded place."

Armie smirks, taking some of the darts from Timothée's hands.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he throws the dart, a wide smile appearing on his face as it hits the bullseye.

Timothée stares at it in disbelief, his eyes wandering from the dartboard to Armie, who has the most annoying smug look on his face.  _ Great, another ability to his arsenal. Does he ever get tired? _

"Are you good at everything?"

"It's only the third day, Tim, you'll have time to see all my flaws, don't worry."

Timothée shakes his head, grabs another dart and throws it, watching in pure anger as it falls to the ground before it even reaches the board. He groans, his cheeks burning as Armie starts laughing.

"Fuck, that was lame."

"Oh, shut up."

"Let me guess, you don't like losing?"

"Does anyone?" He protests and as Armie opens his mouth to speak, he raises a finger, keeping him quiet. "Don't even start with your positivity crap, Hammer, I'm not in the mood."

"Fine, I'll keep myself quiet," Armie shrugs, looking around the place. "Actually, I might head back to the Inn. You coming?"

"I am your shadow, ain't I?" Timothée jokes, placing the darts back in place. He stops, turns to face Armie and smirks. "What you say we buy some booze and then make some good use of those Pringles in the mini bar?"

"That seems like a good idea."

"I'm full of them."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The window is wide open, the curtains blowing with the cool breeze that comes inside the bedroom. Silence reigns, on the floor two bottles of Tequila and a couple packs of Pringles. Both Armie and Timothée are sitting on the ground, their legs sprawled and their backs against each bed.

Armie has a small joint dangling between his lips, his eyes roaming around the room, until it lands on Timothée, who is completely absorbed in taking the last bits of chips from the package. He chuckles, takes a drag and leans forward, offering the joint to Timothée, who simply stares at it.

"What? My weed is not good enough for you?"

Timothée rolls his eyes and reaches for the joint, taking a quick drag of it before blowing out the smoke. Although he isn't a stranger to smoking, it's not exactly something he does very often, and usually only when he is going out with Chris and Zoe.

"I take you're not that big of a smoker, are you?"

"Just occasionally," he shrugs. He hands the joint back to Armie, his eyes wandering around the room, trying to come up with something for them to do. "Okay, how about I ask you a couple of questions?"

"You never stop asking me questions," Armie smirks, blowing out the smoke soon after it. "But sure, ask away. I'm sure after so much booze and weed, I'm gonna give you some awesome material."

Timothée grins, nodding his head.

"And that's exactly why this is a great opportunity to ask the interesting questions.

"Which are?"

"How old were you when you had your first kiss?"

"With a girl or a guy?"

"Oh yeah, you're bisexual," he mumbles and stops to think for a second before shrugging. "Amuse me."

"My first actual kiss was with a girl and I was thirteen, then at sixteen I finally had the courage to kiss a guy."

"School friends?"

"The girl was from my math class, the guy was from my photography course."

"Interesting," he wiggles his brows, the alcohol starting to lessen his walls. "Your first time?"

"At sixteen."

"With?"

"The same guy from the first kiss."

"Oh, that's quite unusual."

"Is it?"

"No, I mean, every gay or bisexual guy I ever met, had his first sexual experience with a girl."

"I like to defy the expectations."

Timothée shoots him a look, shaking his head as Armie laughs.

"When did you smoke weed for the first time?"

"At my friend Lee's house. We were fifteen and his parents were out for the weekend, so he found his older brother's stach and we made good use of some of it."

"Seems like fun."

"It was," he says, a wide smile on his face as he recounts the events of that day in his head. He reaches for the bottle of Tequila, which is nearly finished and takes a sip. "May I have the answers for these questions too? Or once again, I'm the only one opening myself up here?"

"My first kiss was at fourteen, my first time shortly after my fifteen birthday. It was pretty clear to me that something was off, so despite my fear, I tried out kissing a guy and suddenly things made a lot more sense. My first sexual experience with a guy was when I turned seventeen."

Timothée shrugs, acting as if the conversation doesn't really have much meaning, or as if he's not at all slightly uncomfortable sharing this. And it's not even because he doesn't like talking about it, it's more about the fact sitting face to face with Armie, sharing these kinds of things, makes it all feel a lot more intimate.

Still in complete silence, Armie stares at him for a moment and repeating the movement from earlier, leans forward to hand Timothée the bottle, only this time he reaches as close as he possibly can, their faces coming inches away from one another.

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, his mouth suddenly going dry as he notices just how close Armie truly is. He bites his lip, his eyes wandering through Armie's face until he finally settles for his eyes, the intense blue seeming even more beautiful from up close.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Armie suddenly says, slamming the bottle on Timothée's chest. He pats his shoulder, smiles and gets up, stretching out his arms and legs.

Timothée remains in silence, taking the bottle in his hands as he watches Armie take off his shirt and throw it to the ground. His eyes follow him as he walks to the bathroom, his well sculpted torso in full display for him. He swallows dryly, shakes his head and takes a sip of the Tequila, focusing on the burning feeling down his throat other than anything else.

He hears the shower run and for a second he thinks it wouldn't be a completely terrible idea to simply burst into the bathroom and see what could happen.  _ It has been a couple of days, you could treat yourself with a fine man _ . He shakes his head, takes a deep breath and places the bottle on the small nightstand between the beds before getting up. He takes one quick look over his shoulder, takes off his shirt and throws himself on the bed. If he's drunk enough to start having those kinds of thoughts, maybe it's better to get some sleep.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The Sun light has just now started to illuminate the room, but Armie is already sitting on the bed, his back leaned against the bedpost as his laptop rests on his lap. His camera is connected to it, photos from the previous day being transferred from one device to the other, while he edits some of the photographs from Stamford. He clicks on one from the protest, smiling to himself as he stares at it, a sense of pride taking him over.

Armie was never one to glorify himself, but he also wasn't shy in admitting his talent. He had worked really hard to explore his abilities and make the best out of it, so he thinks he has some credit in store for when he gets a bit cocky. He opens yet another photo, this one of Timothée, who appears leaned against a tree while the students walk by him. The colors seem a little off and he quickly does some contrast work, trying to smooth it out.

Before he can finish though, he feels his phone vibrating by his side and swiftly reaches for it, a soft smile on the corner of his lips as he sees his father's name pop up on the screen. He takes a quick look at Timothée, who's sleeping on the bed next to his, his face buried in the pillow as he snores.

"Hello?"

"Well, you finally figured out how to answer your phone."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head. His father never misses the opportunity to call him out, even if he does it in the best -and nicest- way possible.

"Sorry, dad. I've been quite focused on the trip, I haven't checked my phone that much."

"How are you, son?"

"I'm doing great, dad. Things have been quite fun so far and the photos are incredible, I'll send you a couple of them."

"What about the reporter?"

Armie looks to the side, eyeing Timothée up and down, an almost imperceptible smile on his face.

"Well, he can be quite grumpy, but I guess we're slowly reaching a point of understanding and mutual respect."

"Good, it's important that this guy likes you."

"Is it?"

"Well, he's writing a profile about you. We want him to be nice, don't we?"

Armie cocks an eyebrow, his fingers tracing the keyboard on the laptop.

"Dad, I don't want him to write anything other than what he perceives me as. The moment I agreed to this, I knew he would have full responsibility on how the article came out, so I'm ready to take whatever comes my way."

There's a moment of silence on the other side of the line and Armie can almost see his dad running his fingers through his grey hair, a frown upon his face as his blue eyes wander around the room. The classical Mr. Paul Hammer thinking face.

"I would like to open that magazine and read a beautiful profile on you, but if you claim not to care about how it comes out, I guess I don't care either."

"Dad," Armie says between soft chuckles. "The only opinion that truly matters to me is yours and mom's, so if you're in any way scared of me getting sad over this, don't worry. Are we clear?"

"Yes, we're clear."

"Okay, now tell me how's mom."

Another pause and Armie immediately sits up straight, his blue eyes wide in apprehension.

"Dad?"

"She's doing alright. She didn't feel good yesterday, so we had to head to the hospital..."

The mention of a hospital is enough to bring Armie's mood down and a sense of guilt take him over. While his mother had to be rushed to a hospital, he spent the night getting wasted and high with a near stranger. What does that say about the kind of son he is? Maybe he should stop it all and go stay with his mother.

"Armie?"

"Dad, maybe I should go and stay with you guys for a couple of days."

"No, you don't have to."

"You need help taking care of her, I can't let you do this all on your..."

"Armand, you're not cancelling your trip to come here. Do you understand me?"

"Dad..."

"Do you understand me?"

Armie sighs, but nods anyway. "Yes, I understand."

"We knew from day one that there would be ups and downs, kid. We have learned how to deal with the consequences of her illness, and it can be devastating sometimes, but we got it all covered."

"I can still help."

There's some weird movement, footsteps and whispering. With a frown, Armie listens to it all in silence, waiting for his dad to say something else.

"Armie?" It's his mom's voice and she sounds tired. "Armie, can you hear me?"

"Yes, mom."

"Enjoy your trip and stop worrying about me. Your father always makes things look a lot worse than they are."

"I just wanna help, mom."

"The best way to help me, is by living your life to the fullest. Seeing your happiness makes me happy and reinvigorates me, so please, don't cancel your trip because of me."

"Okay, I won't."

"I do want photos though."

He chuckles. "I'll send a couple of them, don't worry."

"Good. We'll let you go now. Have fun, son, and remember that we love you."

"And I love you both, too."

"Bye, Armie."

"Bye, mom."

Armie hangs up the phone with a sigh, rubbing his temples. A part of him desperately wants to leave it all behind and go be with his mother, but at the same time he knows she was being honest, seeing him happy does bring some different light to her eyes. He almost lost count of how many times his photographs have put a smile on her face.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears some grunting, which causes him to look to the side. He watches as Timothée moves around on the bed, stretching out his arms and legs, while yawning. He chuckles at the look on his face, the look of someone who seems to have spent the last two days awake at some kind of rave.

"Morning," he says cheerfully as Timothée groans, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, forgot your grumpy self doesn't like talking much in the morning."

"Only weird people like to talk in the morning," he mumbles, while trying to find a comfortable position in bed. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Ugh, that's too early."

"Not for people who were supposed to be exploring the city."

Timothée shrugs, but remains in silence, his eyes up on the ceiling as he plays with the hem of his shirt. He cocks an eyebrow when Armie clears his throat and looks to the side, a questioning look in his eyes.

"I actually need to talk to you about something."

"Does it have to be now?"

"Just want to do it while it's fresh in my mind."

"Huh," he mumbles, sitting up on the bed. "Say it then."

"Can you keep my mother's illness out of the article?"

"What?"

"I don't want you to talk about her illness," Armie repeats while closing his laptop with one hand, the other nervously scratching his nape. "Look, I don't want you to think this is me trying to tell you what to write, because it isn't. I don't care if you're gonna make me sound like an asshole, or some idiot who gets by using my looks. I just want my mom to be out of all of this."

Timothée stares at him for a good minute, then turns on the bed so he's facing Armie. He can easily see the signs of someone who's nervous and apprehensive, which is a new side of Armie to him.

"You don't want your mother to become the center of the story, right? To have people only asking about her and turning her life into a sob story."

Armie nods, biting his lip as his eyes wander everywhere in the room, except Timothée's way.

"Look, you don't have to worry. This article is about you, you're the main focus and I might sound like an asshole sometimes, but I'd never put your mother on the spotlight like this."

"Thank you," Armie nearly whispers.

"It's alright, don't sweat it." Timothée shrugs, pulling himself up. "Now, if you excuse me, I will have some breakfast."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The tiny little restaurant in the center of New Haven turned out to be the perfect place to sit down for lunch. After a lazy morning, where they mostly sat down on their beds, working on their computer, they decided to take a walk around the area, exploring a bit of the town. Eventually, they stopped by the restaurant, which was right in front of a small park, where kids played.

The food was delicious and had that touch of homemade that made things even better, bringing back memories of childhood family dinners. Of course those memories were not quite the same for Armie and Timothée, considering their different backgrounds, but even so, a good homemade lunch could easily make any day better.

Sitting across from Armie, Timothée would steal quick glances at him, watching as he devoured his food with such enthusiasm, it almost seemed like he hadn't eaten in weeks. He had to admit, it was kind of amusing. But his glances were also part of his job, trying to extract some sort of gesture or habit of Armie that he might have let it slip before.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me or you're gonna finish your lunch?"

Timothée bites his lip, unable to control a slight blush from taking over his cheeks. He averts his eyes down, moving his fork around the nearly empty plate and then sighs, sliding the plate to the side.

"Can I ask you something? And I promise this won't go into the article."

Armie frowns, but nods anyway.

"How did your mom's disease affect your family? I know you mentioned how it turned your life upside down, but I was wondering how it all went down."

"Horribly," Armie shrugs. "She wasn't feeling very well, had some complaints of pain and tiredness, so my dad made sure she had all possible exams done. It was quite a surprise when we found out about the cancer, which put the three of us in a very depressive moment. My mom barely spoke for a couple of days, which I assumed was her way of letting it all sink in."

"It must be a constant struggle for her, right?"

"It is," Armie nods. "I talked to my dad this morning, she ended up in hospital yesterday. Moments like this I feel like giving up on everything and running back to them, helping them in some way."

"You mentioned before you don't visit as much as you'd like."

"I try my best, but life is quite tricky, you know? Something always comes in the way, or I can't stay longer than two or three days."

Timothée nods, a bit unsure of how to proceed with the conversation now. He bites his lip, stares at Armie and quickly notices a sort of curiosity in his eyes. Obviously, he also has his own questions to ask.

"Do your parents live in New York?"

"My mom lives in Hell's Kitchen," Timothée starts, nearly every single fiber inside his body telling him to stop right there.  _ Don't say much, don't let him in, it's not worth it. _ "But I have no idea where my father lives."

"Oh," is all Armie says while nodding his head.

"There's no need for sympathy or pity though, alright?"

"Don't worry, that's not where I was going."

"Good."

As he nods, Armie suddenly feels like he understands Timothée a lot better after such revelation. From the tone of his voice to his gestures, it's clear he once had some connection with his father and maybe losing that connection was what made him so closed up. Armie had seen many people like him walk in and out of his life, people who in order to not get hurt, don't allow others to get in.

"Anyway," he says a bit more cheerful, trying to change the mood. "My dad asked about you today."

"What?"

"He's scared you'll portray me as an asshole in the article."

"Well, tell him I'm only gonna do that if you act like one." Armie nods, a bit of a chuckle escaping him. "And since we're back to business, when do we leave for the next town?"

"Actually, I plan on staying here a couple more hours. I thought it would be nice to visit my old building and see how it looks now. It's been nearly twenty years since I stepped in this town, I want to explore a bit more. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, it will be kind of interesting to see you go back to your childhood home. That can trigger some memories, which are always good material."

"Okay then, we do a bit more sightseeing around and then head back on the road."

"Where are we going to?"

"Tell me, what's the point of sending you an itinerary if you don't look at it?"

"It's in my email, I'd had to go back a couple of pages to find it. It's a lot easier if you just tell me."

"Well, I'll let the plaques tell you."

"Jesus," he mumbles shaking his head. "And I'm the grumpy one."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

"So, this is where you grew up?"

Armie nods, more to himself than to actually answer the question. His eyes are glued to the four store building that stands in front of him, the brick walls bringing back memories. He was only nine, and sure didn't live there for that long, but the place was still filled with memories. He smiles to himself, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking him over as his eyes wander to the windows on the third floor, where their apartment was. He can't really believe it took him this long to actually come back.

"How does it feel to come back here?"

"Cozy," is all he says while turning to look at Timothée, who has a small smile on his face. "I know cozy seems like a weird way to describe it, but it makes me feel welcomed and at home."

"Cozy seems just fine to me."

Armie nods again, a smile on his lips as he turns his attention back to the building. He takes a hold of his camera, which hangs from his shoulder, aims it at the building and snaps a couple of photos. As he sees Timothée cross the street and head over to the front gate, he arches an eyebrow, slightly confused on what is happening.

He lets go of his camera, rushes over to Timothée's side and is able to hear just the end of the conversation, which leaves him even more intrigued than before.

"What is going on?"

"You won't believe the things people will do when they know you're a journalist working on a new article. I told the doorman you used to live here and that I am writing about you, he instantly agreed on letting us in and allowing us to have a little tour inside the building. He can't guarantee we'll have access to your old apartment, but it's better than just standing on the other side of the street staring at it, huh?"

"Are you fucking serious?"

Timothée shrugs, crossing his arms as he leans on the wall. "What? I can be a nice and resourceful guy too, besides I'll do anything to get a nice story."

"I can see that," Armie says between chuckles. He watches from the corner of his eye as the man returns and suddenly grows serious, eager to actually walk in and explore the building, just like he used to do when he was little.

He watches in silence as the man opens the gate and lets them in, his eyes instantly wandering around the small front garden. He takes a quick step forward, eyes attentive to every little detail around him. In his mind he's playing before and after, pointing out to himself every thing that is different from twenty years ago and it sure is a lot.

"Thank you," he looks over his shoulder as he hears Timothée's voice and stops, patiently waiting for him to catch up with him. "Ready to show me around?"

"Yes," he nods. "I'm just not sure where to begin. There's so many memories from this place in my mind, I don't think I ever realized just how much I missed it until we arrived here."

Timothée nods, looking around the place for a second. "Does it still look like the same building from when you lived here?"

"Yes, they didn't make many changes. The garden was bigger, but I guess people don't care for flowers as much as they used to. There were benches all around, where people would sit down on Sunday afternoon, drink tea with their neighbors and talk about their lives."

"You must have had someone around your age here who you considered a friend," Timothée questions as Armie shrugs. "Oh, c'mon."

"There weren't many children when I lived here, but there was this girl, I believe she was seven, and we would play together occasionally. But mostly, I would come down here with my art supply, draw and paint. Or I would help my mom with cookies and bring them down here to her friends."

"That's kinda cute," he admits as Armie looks at him with a smirk. "Don't get so full of yourself and just keep on talking."

Armie chuckles, walking inside the main building. He stops in front of the staircase, takes in a deep breath before moving forward, his smile growing bigger with each step he takes.

"They still haven't got an elevator."

"Old buildings hardly ever succumb to these kinds of things, unless they are a tourist spot."

"I would run down these stairs like a mad man, which would drive my mom insane. She kept saying I would break a leg or an arm, so in our last week here, I stumbled and fell down the stairs. Gess what happened?"

"You broke an arm."

"Exactly like she said I would."

Timothée chuckles, eyeing Armie up and down. He averts his eyes when Armie turns to him, focusing on the little adorned window that has a view to the park across the street. He walks over to it, smiling as he sees a couple of kids on the playground, then turns to Armie, who's standing right in front of a closed door. He frowns, looking in the same direction as him and soon it clicks him. This is Armie's old apartment.

"That's the one, right?"

Armie nods, remaining silent for a minute more.

"I had great memories here," he says while walking towards the window, leaning against it beside Timothée. "Even if I didn't have friends to run around with me or whatever, it was one of the places I loved the most."

"Since you mentioned," Timothée retrieves his notepad from his back pocket. "Would you mind telling me some of the places you lived during your father's work as a diplomat?"

"Los Angeles, San Diego, New Haven, Boston, Portland, Washington, the Cayman Islands, Buenos Aires and São Paulo."

"So you lived abroad too?"

"After we left New Haven, we spent a couple of months in Washington, then Buenos Aires, followed by São Paulo and then Cayman Islands before setting back in New York."

"So you speak spanish?"

"Of course I learned a bit of Spanish and Portuguese, but I doubt it is enough to get me through life in any of those countries."

"Can you order food?"

"I believe so."

"Then you won't starve," he shrugs. "I say that's a big step already."

"Maybe," Armie chuckles. "Do you speak any other languages?"

"French."

Armie nods. "Of course, with that name, I should have assumed."

"Not everyone with a French name actually speaks French, alright? But my father was...," he sighs, shaking his head. "My father is French and taught me quite a lot, then in college I took some classes too."

"You have family there?"

"My grandma still lives there, but we don't talk much," he scratches the back of his neck, already uncomfortable with the amount of information he is giving Armie. "Anyway, back to you."

Armie simply nods, aware that Timothée will always find a way to drift the conversation away from him. For some reason, he rather close himself up and hide behind walls than acknowledge whatever he is thinking and feeling. And while Armie would love to get to know more about him, he knows it's not his place to press him in any way. If he wants to talk, he will talk.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée has his feet upon the dash and his phone in his hands, snapping photos of the road as the music fills the entire car. For the first time on the trip, he was the one taking care of the radio, which meant hip hop blasting in full volume. At first it was clear Armie was a bit put off, since he wasn't very familiar with any of the songs, but little by little it seemed like Timothée was able to bring him to his side.

Mumbling the words to some of Kanye West's latest tracks, Timothée stares in awe at some of the trees and little houses that pass them by. One of the best things about this trip was discovering new places, and even if sometimes it was just by the car window, Timothée had already seen things interesting enough to sparkle the idea of other articles. But that of course would have to wait, because right now he had a profile to write and every little bit he dared to scrabble the past two days turned out to be pure trash.

_ Everything you've written lately is trash, let's be honest with ourselves _ . He sighs, shakes his head and reaches for his notepad and a pencil on his backpack, flipping through a couple of pages before he starts to write something down. From the corner of his eye, he can see Armie averting strange looks in his direction, which he tries to ignore at first, but after a minute it becomes nearly impossible.

"What you looking at, Hammer?"

"How the hell can you write while on movement?" He ponders as Timothée frowns. "And most importantly, what is so urgent that can't wait until we get to....."

"Well, I do have to write an article about you, don't I?"

"And you're gonna do it three days into the trip?"

"I like to write things down as they go, then I can lay them all out and edit as I wish. Doesn't necessarily mean I will use what I write now, so don't worry, you might not come out as a total asshole."

"Well, I doubt I did anything to cause that impression, so I would be a bit frustrated if you did this."

"You made me sleep on a tent," Timothée says with a shrug. "To me, that's enough to classify you as a possible asshole."

"No, you're just lame."

"Excuse me?"

"Camping is one of the best things in the world, Tim. You are in contact with nature, away from all the technology of the world for at least a couple of hours, just you and your thoughts."

"And who says I want to be alone with my thoughts?"

The tone he uses is a mocking one, but Timothée knows there's a bit of truth to it. Being alone with his thoughts would drive him to think about his sometimes suffocating relationship with his mother, the absence of his father and all the possible lovers he said no to in order of not hurting himself any more.

"Well, in that case..."

"Not to mention, there's dirt everywhere, weird sounds, wild animals and it's just not comfortable at all."

"It isn't uncomfortable."

"I barely slept, Hammer. Even if that was partially because you wouldn't stop snoring."

"Well, I apologize for that. I've been told I tend to snore when I'm too tired."

"Who told you that?"

"Scarlett, a friend of mine."

"A friend?," he questions as Armie shrugs. "I'm not buying it."

"Okay, we had sex a couple of times, but I don't know why that's relevant."

Timothée shrugs, a little smirk on his face. "I didn't say it was, you were the one who felt the need to explain yourself."

Armie looks at Timothée for a brief moment, a frown on his face, which makes Timothée laugh. He rolls his eyes, turning back to the road and shakes his head, turning down the volume of the music.

"I think it's better if you get back to your writing."

"Who's hiding stuff now, huh?"

"Oh, shut up."

Timothée laughs, pushes some of his curls back and turns his attention back to the small notepad on his lap, writing down small notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Always love reading your insights on what´s happening and how they slowly get closer, so keep them coming :)


	8. It´s Called A Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would Chris do?

It took a bit of effort and a few hours exchanging emails, but somehow Armie had managed to get them a small two bedroom apartment on AirBnb, which ensured them a lot more privacy and comfort. The place wasn´t anything spectacular, but it also didn´t really lose much to any of the hotels or bed and breakfast they had stayed so far. There was a good kitchen, a nice and spacious living room and each bedroom had its own bathroom. They could easily stay there for days.

The city was also quite adorable and Timothée made sure to keep an open eye to every little thing that passed them by. As soon as they arrived, he noticed the owner of the place had left them a couple maps and a little book with the best places to visit while in Providence, most of them bars, museums and even libraries.

Alone in his bedroom, lying on the bed, Timothée flips through the pages of the small book, memorizing the names of a couple bars, which could easily provide them some good food and a couple drinks for the night. It was only eight, he wasn´t at all in the mood for sleep, so instead of staying home and just doing nothing, he would go out, walk around town and get some nice food and drink.

He tosses the book to the side, pulls himself up and looks around the room for his boots, putting them on as soon as he finds them. He takes a look at himself in the mirror, runs his fingers through his curls and nods to himself, actually quite pleased with what he sees in the reflection. Some would say he is a bit of a snob, but he simply knows how to appreciate what he finds good in himself.

He grabs his phone on the way out, closes the door behind and walks down the hallway, leaning against the closed door to Armie´s bedroom. He knocks on it a couple of times, biting his lip and tapping his foot on the ground as he waits for an answer that doesn´t come. He sighs, knocks once again and waits a couple more seconds.

"C´mon, Hammer, you can´t possibly be asleep already," he says while pressing his face against the door, trying to hear something. "You´re twenty eight, not ninety, please tell me you just bored of me already."

He chuckles to himself, knocks on the door once more and sighs as he gets no reply whatsoever. He pouts, looks around the hallway and reaches for the doorknob, turning it slowly. The door opens without much problem and he steps inside the room, taking a quick look around, an eyebrow arched as he doesn´t see Armie. There was no sound coming from the kitchen or the living room, so he either left without him or....

"Holy..." he nearly screams when Armie steps out of the bathroom, naked from head to toe.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I´m...," Timothée struggles to find the words, his body rigid and his eyes instinctively roaming through Armie´s naked and wet body.  _ Great, he´s got the whole package _ . "I´m sorry," he finally manages to say, shaking his head.

"Don´t you know how to knock," Armie groans, while reaching for the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

"I did knock, but you didn´t answer."

"Because I was in the shower."

"I know that now," he says a bit annoyed, while trying to force his eyes to remain on Armie´s face, although it´s nearly impossible not to follow the drops of water that run down his muscular and tanned chest.

"What do you want anyway?"

"What do I want?" He repeats, for a brief second the reason why he even walked inside the room vanishing from his mind. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out to eat something, I don´t really want to stay inside the apartment when I could be exploring the town."

Armie nods, fishing for a black shirt on his bag. "Yeah, just give me a minute to get dressed and we can go see if we find a nice place."

"Sure, I´ll just..." he stutters. "I´ll just wait outside."

"Thank you."

Timothée nods, turning on his heels and nearly running to the door. He stops, looks over his shoulder and tries his best to give Armie the most apologetic smile he can master. "I´m truly sorry, this won´t happen again."

"You walking into my room without knocking or seeing me naked?"

Timothée doesn´t say anything for a moment, the teasing tone in Armie´s voice something he notices right away. He scoffs, shaking his head as he tries to show he´s not at all embarrassed or thrown off by the hidden suggestion of his phrase.

"Both," he finally says with a smirk, before closing the door behind him.

He sighs, rubs his face and rushes over to the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of water, which he drinks in one go. He leans against the counter, biting his lip as he replays the scene in his head once again, stopping only when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket.

Timothée reaches for it and hits the accept button as soon as he sees Chris´ name on the screen. It takes a few seconds, but suddenly his friend´s face is on the screen, a wide smile on his face.

"Hey, man."

"Hey."

"How things going over there?"

"It´s all good, I´m actually enjoying this trip a lot more than expected."

"See what happens when you take some risks?" Chris asks with a wink as Timothée chuckles. "You and hot photographer are getting along fine?"

Timothée simply nods, feeling his cheeks burn a little bit as he blushes.

"Why are you blushing?"

"I´m not blushing."

"I can see your face perfectly and you´re blushing, Timothée. What the fuck happened?"

Timothée buries his face in his hand, lets out a sigh and then looks back at Chris, biting his lip.

"Timothée, I know you well enough to know when something has happened. Just spill the beans already, you know you want to anyway."

"I just walked in on him naked."

Chris´s eyes go wide for a second, before a smirk takes over his face.

"I imagine him to be very well proportioned, am I right?"

Timothée can´t help but laugh at his friends remark, which surely helps to ease the embarrassment of the moment.

"Don´t leave me hanging, Chalamet, is he all proportioned or not?"

"You know I don´t believe in God, but if there is one, he was very, very generous with him."

"When are you gonna tap that, huh?"

"Oh for fuck´s sake, Chris."

"You´re telling me not even a small part of you, not even your penis, wants to get a taste of that man?" He shakes his head. "I mean, the guy seems like he´s a sculpture that came to life. I spent hours staring at his photos on Instagram."

"You really have the hots for him, don´t ya?"

"I appreciate a handsome man that also happens to be talented. So should you."

"He is actually quite talented, you´re right about that," Timothée says, although he seems to be in a world of his own. "The photos he takes are really inspiring, and it´s almost sickening how he can make even the most mundane things look breathtaking."

Chris smiles, nodding his head slowly as his eyes wander through Timothée´s face. There´s something in his eyes he doesn´t remember ever seeing before in his friend.

"Besides, he´s not all bad to talk to either."

"You two found anything you have in common?"

"We both like old buildings and books?"

"That´s a start, I guess."

Timothée chuckles, raising his gaze as he hears the sound of a door opening.

"I gotta go now, Chris. We´re going out to eat something and have a couple of drinks."

"Enjoy your night," he says with a wink. "And when you find yourself in times of confusion, ask yourself what would I do."

"And then do the complete opposite?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

Timothée shrugs, a chuckle escaping him before he ends the call, just as Armie appears by the living room.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

After about an hour of wandering through the streets of Providence, watching the night life of the small town come to life and many young adults fill the streets, Armie and Timothée headed to Harry's Bar and Grill, one of the many places Timothée read about on the book the apartment's owner had left them. They sat down, enjoyed a good few hours of good music and even better food and drinks. The fact the place wasn't packed with people definitely helped enhance the experience, since neither one of them were really in the mood for crowded places.

It was only midnight when they got up from their table and left the bar, stopping in the middle of the street for a couple of minutes so Armie could take some photos of the buildings. Soon after it, they were back to wandering down the streets, contemplating the architecture of the old houses and laughing at the clearly drunk people that passed them by, some of them who couldn't even keep themselves up.

Laughing, they stumble up the stairs to the small apartment, arguing between them to figure out who had the keys. After nearly a minute, Timothée finally finds the keys on his back pocket, rolling his eyes as Armie shoots him a look. He shakes his head, unlocks the door and walks in, leaving the door open for Armie to come in.

Armie sighs, stretching his arms as he walks over to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. As he drinks it, his eyes wander around the room, watching as Timothée leans against the couch, texting. His eyes move to the clock on the kitchen wall and then back to Timothée, biting his lip as an idea suddenly comes to mind. He's tired, but he knows there is no way he is getting any sleep right now.

"Hey," he says, catching Timothée's attention. "You going to bed already?"

"Umm," Timothée shrugs, clearly confused. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"Feel like watching a movie?"

"What movie?"

"I don't know, we can go through the catalogue and see if we find anything that we both have an interest in."

Timothée frowns, but quickly nods his head. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

"Great," Armie says excitedly. "You wanna go through the movies while I make some popcorn?"

"Are you hungry enough to eat popcorn right now?"

"You can't watch a movie without popcorn, Tim."

As Timothée nods, a small chuckle escaping him, Armie smirks. He turns on his heels, going through the cabinets until he spots the popcorn. He takes a few glances over his shoulder, watching as Timothée lies down on the couch, scrolling through the films. He turns his attention back to the stove, finishing up the popcorn and places it all in a bowl, taking a couple in his mouth as he walks to the fridge, taking two beer bottles with him.

He walks back to the living room, gently kicking Timothée's feet away from the couch and sits down, his feet immediately supported on the coffee table. He opens the two bottles, handing one to Timothée while he places the bowl in between them. Silently, Armie's eyes wander from the television to Timothée, eyeing him up and down. As Timothée turns to look at him, Armie bites his lip, turning his attention back to the television.

"Did you find anything worth watching?"

"There's not many interesting things, to be honest," admits Timothée while stuffing his mouth with popcorn. "Is there any movie you feel like watching?"

"I've never watched Moonlight."

"Excuse me," the tone in his voice is high and the look of total disbelief in his face is quite amusing. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not. I keep telling myself I will watch, but then we always end up watching something else. Taylor can be quite authoritarian when he wants to and Lee usually goes with whatever we choose."

"I can't believe you've never seen Moonlight," Timothée mumbles, shaking his head. He reaches for the remote control, scrolling through the film catalogue and selecting Moonlight. "You're gonna love this film, trust me."

Armie looks over at Timothée, nodding his head. He smiles softly, watching the amusement on Timothée's face as he brings his legs up, pulls a small blanket on top of him and stuffs his mouth of popcorn. He chuckles, drinking some of his beer and turns back to the television, eyes attentive to the movie that starts playing.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

It´s a warm and sunny day in Providence, the streets filled with people jogging, riding their bikes or simply taking a walk through the gardened parks. It´s the perfect day to go out and explore the town, which is exactly what Armie plans on doing; he´s been referred to many different places he could go and take some amazing photographs and since the previous day had been a lot more about nostalgia than actual work, he´s got his mind set on finding the perfect spots. Not that he can´t find some time to have fun in between photos.

Leaned against the car, his arms crossed and his cellphone in his hands, his eyes wander around the streets, smiling as little kids run past him laughing. He checks his phone, a part of him slightly worried about the fact his father hasn´t answered his text back yet, but he swiftly pushes those thoughts back when he notices Timothée.

He raises his gaze, watching as he locks the door to the little apartment they rented and runs down the stairs, his curls bouncing with the movement. He´s wearing a white t-shirt and striped pants, which seems a bit too much for a stroll around town, but at the same time, he looks incredibly good, so Armie chooses not to say anything about how inappropriate his clothes might be.  _ Can´t wait to see his face when he realizes he got all dressed up only to that _ , Armie thinks to himself with a chuckle, trying his best to keep a straight face when Timothée finally approaches him.

"Can I drive today?," he asks while fixing his sunglasses.

"Of course," Armie tosses the keys to him, immediately pushing himself off of the car. "It´s gonna be a pleasure to step out of the wheel and stretch out my legs for once."

"Where are we going?"

"The gps is already set, you just need to follow the instructions."

As he sits down, strapping the seatbelt, he notices the look on Timothée´s face and arches an eyebrow in question.

"You´re not telling me where we´re going?"

"I rather see the look on your face as you find out for yourself."

"This whole mysterious thing doesn´t suit you, Hammer."

"Still, I´ll take my chances."

Armie winks, propping his feet up on the dash as he leans the seat back. He sighs, a smile on his face as the wind hits his face and music fills the air. He steals a quick glance at Timothée, watching as he concentrates on the road, his fingers tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. He chuckles, reaches for his phone and unlocks it, scrolling through a couple old messages.

He bites his lip, his finger hovering on top of Lee´s contact for almost an entire minute before he actually decides to click on it. He starts typing, quickly erasing it afterwards, only to rewrite everything once again. He stops, deletes the message one more time and takes a deep breath, trying to formulate things in a better way.

**_< armie>_ ** _ i know you are headed to Scarsdale for a few days _

_ could u please stop by my parents? _

_ i talked to my dad yesterday and mom wasnt very well _

_ if u can make it _

_ please check on them _

Armie locks the phone, puts it in his pocket and leans his head back, closing his eyes for a second. The music fills his ears, the fresh air helping him forget his worries for a moment, although he knows it will never get easier. He worries about his mother every single second of his life.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

Is only when he asks for the second time that Armie notices he has not only turned down the music, but also glances at him from time to time, a slightly concerned look in his eyes.

"Yes, I´m okay. I just can´t stop thinking about my mom."

"Did something happen?"

"When I talked to my dad yesterday he said she wasn´t feeling quite well," he starts as Timothée nods. "So now I keep thinking that he's hiding something from me, because they don´t want me to worry about her."

"I don´t think they would do that to you, Armie. She´s your mother and you have the right to know about the struggles she´s going through, but if they didn´t say anything, it´s probably because it´s nothing serious."

"That´s the thing, Tim. Is always serious when it comes to my mother, every little thing can affect her in ways we wouldn´t expect. And instead of allowing me to help her, she keeps pushing me away from her."

"How is she pushing you away?"

Armie sighs, shaking his head.

"That was a bit harsh, she´s not really pushing me away. The thing is, no matter how she´s feeling, she keeps putting my life first. Yesterday I said I should quit this trip and go stay with them for a couple of days, but she made me promise that I wouldn´t do this. She doesn´t want me to quit anything that gives me joy, anything that I love to be with her. But it seems like she doesn´t understand that I love her more than anything else."

"She knows that," Timothée says while glancing at Armie for a moment. "She knows that, but there´s so many emotions inside of her that she can´t control, that she will make sure to get control of everything else, because that´s the only way she will ever feel like she owns her life again."

Armie sits in silence, eyes glued on Timothée as he allows his words to sink in. Never had he actually stopped to see things through this perspective, his mother's perspective. It wasn´t that she didn´t want him around, she simply wanted to make sure she could have some sort of control over the things that happened around her, since her own body didn´t seem to belong to her any longer.

"I´m sorry," Timothée nearly whispers, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel. "I think I crossed a line I shouldn´t have and..."

"No," Armie interrupts. "You´re not crossing a line, you´re giving some much needed insight. I´ve been seeing things from my perspective alone, neglecting the fact that my mother is the one who had her life turned upside down. My mother always took care of the house, did everything she set her mind to and now...now she can´t. She depends on my dad for everything and it must be so exhausting to do that, I can´t even imagine."

"No one can really understand what she is feeling, Armie, but it´s important to at least respect her decisions, even if you don´t agree with them." As Armie nods, Timothée tries to smile. "You´re lucky she´s allowed you to go out and do your thing, spread your wings and explore yourself and the world."

"You talk as if you´re not doing the same with your life."

"I am now," he admits with a shrug. "But it took a lot of arguments to manage that."

"What are you talking about?"

"My mother was always overprotective of me and after my father...," he stops and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "My mother never really wanted me to leave her side, which only resulted in anger and tears for the both of us. I love her more than anything in the world, but we never had an easy relationship, don´t think we ever will, to be honest."

Armie simply nods, aware that anything he says right now might scare off Timothée and keep him from saying anything else. He knows he is not very fond of sharing much about his life, so he will take whatever he gives and just let it roll as if it wasn´t a big deal at all. Not even sure why, Armie wants Timothée to trust him enough to feel comfortable sharing these things.

He looks over to the gps, a slight smile on the corner of his lips as he realizes they are about to reach their location. He reaches for his camera bag on the backseat, checks to see if everything he needs is inside and allows his eyes to wander over to Timothée as he parks the car, a rather confused look in his eyes.

"What? Something wrong?"

"This is it," he says while turning his attention to him. "According to the gps, this is our destination."

"Yeah, you´re absolutely right."

Timothée shakes his head, a few curls falling down his eyes.

"I don´t get it."

"That," Armie says while pointing to large iron gates across from them. "Is our destination."

"The cemetery?"

"Not just any cemetery," Armie replies. "One established in 1846 and that features some incredibly beautiful mausoleums."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I´m afraid not," he says with a chuckle. "But if like camping, you hate cemeteries, you can stay in the car or drive around town. Maybe you can come back in around an hour to pick me up, does that sound okay?"

Timothée sighs, burying his face in his hands. "I can´t believe I got all dressed up to visit a cemetery."

"So, are you joining me or not?"

Armie arches an eyebrow, staring at Timothée, whose eyes wander from him to the cemetery and then back, nodding slowly.

"I´ll go, but you´re paying for my lunch."

"Isn´t the magazine already paying for your meals?"

"They are," he nods. "But today, you´re the one paying."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "Fine, I´ll pay for your lunch. Now let´s go, I want to take full advantage of this beautiful sunlight we got."

He hops off of the car, slamming the door close behind him as he looks around the street. It´s such a calm and beautiful place, Armie simply can´t wait to see what he can get out of this. He walks over to the gate, looking over his shoulder at Timothée, who trails behind, green eyes attentive to his surroundings.

"Are you seriously scared of walking around a cemetery?"

"I never said I was scared," Timothée quickly says. "But I will admit, this is not really something I had in mind."

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"That in the end you´ll find something enjoyable about it, just like you did with everything else we´ve done so far."

"I still haven´t found anything enjoyable about camping."

"Will you ever let that go?"

Timothée smirks, patting Armie´s back as they walk inside the cemetery. "Nope."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Spending his Friday morning in a cemetery wasn´t exactly what Timothée had in mind when he woke up, but much to his annoyance he had to admit Armie was right. The experience was a lot more fun than he had expected it to be, not to mention the cemetery was absolutely stunning. The mausoleums, sarcophagus and cenotaphs were meticulously well built, with very delicate details, which in his opinion allowed beauty in a place that is often seen as sad and scary.

The architecture of the place was everything Armie could have asked for, the smile on his face constant as he walked around the grass, photographing nearly every single thing that he saw. Timothée probably would never tell him that, but it was touching to see the way he came alive whenever he was photographing; as if whatever he was aiming his camera at, allowed him inside their history, fed him with knowledge. Little by little, it became even clearer to Timothée that Armie was far from a simple Instagram photographer; he had soul, he was passionate and it was his passion that allowed such breathtaking photos to come alive.

Sitting quietly on one of the many benches spread around the cemetery, Timothée had his phone and his notepad resting on his lap, while his green eyes are stuck on Armie, who kneels down on the grass to get a better close up at some of the details on the gigantic English Country Gothic style Redwood Mausoleum, which on his own was already astonishing, but through Armie´s leans would look even better.

A smile appears on the corner of his lips as Timothée watches Armie sit down on the grass, camera hanging from his neck and his hands resting on his thighs. He looks pensive, the expression on his face changing from carefree and happy to a mix of apprehension and fear as his eyes wander around the building. It doesn´t take a genius to figure out the problem, he´s clearly thinking of his mother. It didn´t even strike to Timothée the idea that being in a cemetery while he was already worried about his mother´s health could affect him in a negative way; luckily for both of them, it seemed like Armie was a lot better at dealing with his internal demons. If he wanted to share something, he would say it.

Unaware why, but slightly embarrassed by his constant stare, Timothée swiftly averts his eyes when Armie gets up. He looks down at his notepad, flips through a couple of pages as if he would find anything interesting in them, then checks his phone. He only looks back up when Armie towers in front of him, shadowing the sunlight. Timothée remains in silence, but doesn´t take his eye away from Armie, watching as he nearly throws himself beside him on the bench, a loud and exasperated sigh escaping him.

"Got some nice material?"

"Great, actually. Not many people would think it, but a cemetery can be quite instigating and beautiful, things I always look for when photographing."

"You can never run away from the sadness of it though, can you?"

Armie looks at him and Timothée tries to put on a small smile, pretending he isn´t hinting at anything in particular.

"There´s sadness everywhere, Timothée. There´s no such thing as pure happiness, we´re all struggling with something, even if in the outside everything seems perfect."

"Some people can´t even pretend everything is perfect," Timothée´s words come almost in a whisper, but he can tell Armie heard them, the intensity of his stare is enough. He sighs, clapping his hands together as he turns his body in Armie´s direction, a suggestive smirk taking over his face. "I´m starting to get hungry and I believe you owe me lunch?"

Armie scoffs, nodding his head.

"Is there anywhere in particular you want to go to, mister?"

"Oh, of course I have a place I want to go to."

"Which is?"

"According to the little book our host left for us, Hemenway ́s is one of the most traditional restaurants here in Providence and I checked the menu, it really is outstanding."

"You´re going for the most expensive place you found, aren´t you?"

"Not necessarily," Timothée shrugs, his cheeky grin growing each second. "I just really liked the menu."

Armie shakes his head, pushing himself up. "Fine, then let´s go to this fancy restaurant of yours."

"Great," he tosses the keys back to Armie, who frowns. "I´m not in the mood for driving anymore, maybe tonight."

"Fine, I´m back at being the chauffeur then."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head as Armie walks ahead of him, eyes attentive to every single thing around him. With a frown, Timothée tries his best to understand why he feels such an urge to simply look at him, understand and admire him from afar.

_ Have you forgotten about your teenage years? I believe the term for such a thing is a crush. _

"Are you coming or not?" Armie shouts from a few feet away, snapping Timothée out of his thoughts.

"I´m right behind you!"

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

It was an interesting day to say the least. After starting the day at Swan Point Cemetery, Armie and Timothée headed to lunch in the prestigious Hemenway´s restaurant, followed by a stroll around the neighborhood before they headed to Federal Hill. There was a lot of food involved, music, laughter and Armie, quite opportunist as he is, took advantage of every second he could to take photos of the locals and the buildings around them.

Sitting on the town square allowed them a look at the day to day life of so many people, watching as couples shared kisses and light touches, kids ran with their bikes and skates, elderly people enjoyed the nice breeze and shadow of the trees. Even if at first Providence could look a bit tamed for two New Yorkers, they certainly found enough things to attract them.

As the night fell upon them, Timothée and Armie left the small apartment once again and drove off downtown and secured themselves one of the best spots at the bank of the river, where they had a privileged view of the Waterfire festival. Timothée had heard of the festival a couple of times, Zoe herself had commented on how beautiful it was, so even if he tried to look cool, a part of him was extremely excited to see the event, as were the thousands of people gathering around.

The night is perfect for an outdoor event, warm but with a slight breeze that helps cool down the temperature. Leaning his elbows on his knees, Armie watches the river and the people on the other side, a smile on his face as he notices the collective glee that seems to take over everyone. Moments like this, where he sees people coming together, standing side by side in order to see something great, is beautiful and touching to him.

Looking over to his side, he eyes Timothée up and down, noticing the small smile on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. He reaches for his camera, trying his best not to make much noise and aims it towards Timothée, making sure to frame him and the river on the back. He stares down at the camera for a second, almost unable to control the huge smile that takes him over. Armie is quite sure by the end of this trip, he will have over a hundred photos of Timothée.  _ He´s just so photogenic _ , Armie tells himself with a shrug.

"How long until it starts?," Timothée asks, catching Armie´s attention.

"About two minutes."

Timothée nods, turning his attention back to the river for a second, before turning back to Armie.

"Can I take a couple pictures?"

"With my camera?"

"Well, yeah."

Armie nods, handing the camera to Timothée, who much like a kid, stares at the device with sparkly eyes. He chuckles, silently watching as Timothée snaps a couple of photographs, a smile on his lips whenever he checks on them. Armie has to admit, it´s adorable to see him like this, not to mention he seems a lot more relaxed and at ease with himself and the world around him. He wishes he could be this way more often.

As the show starts, Timothée hands the camera back to Armie, turning his attention fully to the show in front of him. He bites his lip, attentive green eyes roaming from the people to the spectacle, his heart beating faster every single second that passes. Zoe was right, the show was fairly simple, but beautiful to see and brought him some kind of peace.

As the thing goes, he exchanges a couple of words with Armie, commenting on what they think of it, but quickly grows silent again, devoting his full attention to the festival. To think that he almost had to be forced into this trip and now Timothée could see every one of the events he saw, every place he visited, become part of him somehow. Those experiences would be engraved in his brain forever and he had to thank Zoe and Chris for encouraging him to accept this.

Once the show is over, Timothée and Armie raise from their seats and head down the crowded streets of Providence, not entirely sure where they are going, but willing to let destiny or whatever other force, guide them to their destination.

A couple of kids laugh in the distance and Armie quickly reaches for his camera, snapping a couple shots of them, the city lights creating a different glow around them. He nods proudly at himself, then turns to Timothée, snapping a couple more photos of him, who groans and shakes his head.

"Will you stop doing that?," he says while turning to face Armie, walking backwards.

"Why would I?"

"Because there´s no reason for you to keep taking photos of me," he says with a shrug. "And also is quite embarrassing."

"You should be honored I even take the time to take photos of you, Chalamet."

"Honored? You´re not Picasso, dude, calm down."

While rolling his eyes, Timothée turns back around and without having any time to process what is actually happening, he stumbles on a rock and nearly falls face first on the ground, being stopped by Armie´s strong arms, that he wraps around his waist to keep him up.

Timothée gasps, his hands shaking and his curls clouding his vision. It takes him a moment, but eventually he turns around on Armie´s arms, his shaky hands reaching out for his shoulders for support. They are close, their lower bodies nearly pressed together while they stare at each other´s eyes, feeling the hot breath that comes from one another.

Armie stares down at Timothée, his blue eyes nearly hypnotized by the sight of him. He was a handsome man, he noticed that the moment he saw him for the first time at the Black Brick Coffee, but seeing him this close only made him look even better. His eyes, which were green with a hint of hazel, seemed to sparkle with the moonlight and for a second Armie could feel himself moving forward.

Swallowing dryly, Timothée tries to find words to say, but all his brain can do is process just how beautiful and inviting Armie´s eyes are, almost as if they are asking him to dive into them, bare his body and soul. He blinks a couple of times, his eyes then slowly moving to his lips, which are slightly open and seem to be smoother than cotton candy.

"T-thanks," he says, finally finding the strength to push Armie away and take a step back.

"It´s...," Armie trails off, his arms slowly unwrapping from Timothée´s waist and falling to his sides. "It´s okay."

"I guess I need to pay more attention to where I´m going."

Armie nods slowly, while he tries to put on a comforting smile.

"Yeah, well, I won´t be here to catch you every time."

Timothée nods, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to get his breathing -and his heartbeat- back to normal. He doesn´t particularly like what he is feeling, so he simply turns away from Armie, taking a couple of deep breaths.

"You... You want to go grab something to eat? I´m starting to get hungry."

"Sure, that sounds like a good idea."

"There was a bar down the street that looked cool."

Timothée shrugs. "Wherever you wanna go is fine with me."

Armie nods and quickly sprints down the streets with Timothée by his side. He frowns, trying his best to understand the exact source of those thoughts back when they were nearly pressed together, but after a moment, he chooses to let it slide. It´s getting late, the last thing he needs right now is to stress over this.


	9. What Is Wrong With You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You´re cute when you´re annoyed.

Two days after the Waterfire Festival, which resulted in the slightly awkward, but extremely intense moment between Armie and Timothée in the middle of the street, they found themselves in Boston. The city had graced them with intense rain, keeping them inside the small apartment, which was another one of Armie's great deals, for the whole morning. Not one word had been said about the moment they shared, both of them choosing to focus on everything else that was happening around them.

Ever since they left New York, this was the first big city they had actually stopped and even if the rain was keeping the mood a bit down, Armie had many places he wanted to visit and photograph. Luckily for him, the weather forecast said the rain would stop in the afternoon, which would give him the chance to explore the city for a couple of hours. While that didn't happen, he resorted to working on the kitchen, preparing lunch for him and Timothée, who watched it from the kitchen counter.

With a proud smile on his lips, Armie fills two bowls with pasta, adding a bit of bechamel sauce on top. He turns on his heels, adding some shredded cheese and toasted bacon on top before sliding one of the bowls over to Timothée, who stares at it in disbelief. Armie chuckles, cocking an eyebrow in wonder as Timothée nods, leaning back to his stool.

"I'm quite impressed," he admits while reaching for a fork.

"And why is that?"

"I didn't take you as a guy who cooks."

"Am I allowed to know what made you think that?"

"I don't know, it just feels...," Timothée sighs, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly? It's borderline annoying how you seem to be good at nearly everything you do."

Armie smirks, taking a mouthful of pasta. He stares at Timothée for a moment, watching with amusement as his eyes nearly glow while he chews.

"Two minutes with my friends and they'll make sure to tell you everything I'm bad at."

"Friends often exaggerate to embarrass us," Timothée wiggles his brows, the fork moving around as he gesticulates. "I mean, at least I know Chris would."

"Maybe you just have more embarrassing stories than I do," Armie mocks as Timothée rolls his eyes. "But it's true, Lee and Taylor, specially Taylor, would love to tell you a couple of awkward stories about me or point out everything they think it's wrong with me."

Timothée stares at him for a moment, a smirk on his face.

"Tell me some of the things they think are wrong with you."

"Lee hates when I get too deep about anything, he keeps saying I'm a pseudo-intellectual. Taylor is about the little and unimportant things, to be honest. He's always annoyed when I sing along to music, he keeps saying my taste for film is crap and that the noises I make at the gym are irritating."

"Taylor sounds like a lot of work, huh?"

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "He sounds a bit harsh sometimes, but he's actually a really nice guy. He's helped me a lot when I started working in my studio at my house, he is always willing to do whatever he can to help Lee and I. A lot of people think getting so rich at such a young age must have affected him negatively, but his parents did quite a good job with him."

"Maybe I should write a profile about him," Timothée teases. "He sounds a lot more interesting than you."

Armie shoots him a look, taking the bowl of pasta away from Timothée, who gasps, trying to reach out for his food.

"Give it back!"

"You want to mock me? Fine, but you don't get to eat my food."

"That's just mean, Hammer."

Armie simply shrugs, taking the bowls with him as he walks over to the small living room. He chuckles as he hears Timothée curse under his breath and then run over to him, nearly hopping onto his back to reach for the bowl.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you?"

"A hungry man," he says while taking a tight hold of the bowl and pulling it away from Armie's grip. "And you should know better than to stay in between me and my food, I have the power to make you look like a complete asshole, don't forget about that."

Armie shrugs, throwing himself down on the couch, legs on the coffee table. He watches as Timothée does the same on the other end of the sofa and smiles slightly. It's still messy and bumpy, but he can see their relationship evolving and the thought of ending this trip as at least good friends doesn't seem so ridiculous after all.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

The view from the Skywalk Observatory, on the top of the Prudential Center, is without a doubt one of the most incredible things Timothée has ever experienced in his life. Watching the city from above, being able to spot some of the most traditional landmarks, feeling the undeniable thrill of being four hundred and ninety-two feet above the ground. The large windows that surround the entire floor allow a safe viewing of the city, but Timothée can´t deny that he misses the wind blowing on his face from time to time, connecting him to the city on a different level.

On the far corner of the room, Armie has his camera in hand, snapping photographs of everything he sees, capturing the beauty of the view as well as the amusement in the faces of other visitors. He takes his phone, opens the camera and snaps a couple of photos of his own, instantly uploading them to his Instagram. Likes appear in a matter of seconds, one of them from Chris, which doesn´t at all surprise Timothée. If allowed, Chris would probably spend his entire day checking his social media.

He chuckles as a notification pops up on the screen and he sees Armie has commented on his photo, congratulating him for it. He shakes his head, moves his eyes over to Armie, who´s leaned against one of the windows, phone in hand and a smirk on his face. He´s wearing simple skinny jeans, a black shirt and sunglasses, yet he outshines every other man in the room; Timothée absolutely hates that, but at the same time, he can´t help but stare.

He bites his lip as he watches Armie walk across the room and over to him, his mind swiftly taking him back to two days ago, when they left the Waterfire Festival, the way Armie´s hand felt around his waist, the way their eyes stared into one another as if trying to steal information from their souls. Armie was a handsome and attractive man, he wouldn´t deny that, but he couldn´t allow such thoughts to keep inundating his head.

"I see you´re starting to learn a thing or two from me," Armie grins, bumping shoulders with Timothée, who rolls his eyes.

"Are you trying to take credit for my photo?"

"No. All I´m saying is your photo skills are getting better."

"Because of you?"

"Who else would it be?"

Timothée shakes his head, a hand leaned against the large glass window. "You´re too full of yourself, Hammer."

Armie chuckles, but grows silent shortly after, his eyes attentive to the city below them.

"I´ve always wanted to visit Boston," he starts. "It always seemed to me like a great city and it turns out I was right. I can´t wait to visit more places, get a close look at all the history of the city."

"Boston really is a beautiful place."

"Have you ever been here before?"

"I have actually," he admits. "It was a school trip and we stayed in this small hotel, which was the coolest thing in the world for all of us. Until this day I wonder if my mom was high when she agreed on allowing me in the tip. It must have been the most agonizing weekend of her life, because..."

Timothée trails off when he feels Armie´s eyes on him and he realizes what he is doing. He frowns, the understanding that for some crazy reason Armie has the ability to simply get him talking. Like some kind of witchcraft, when he´s around Armie, the words just seem to spill out of his mouth without him being able to control it. Timothée hates that feeling.

"Anyway," he says with a little smile while turning to Armie. "You feel like walking down Freedom Trail? I think you´ll find great inspiration over there."

Armie nods. "Sure, I´ve heard nothing but great things about it."

"It´s truly beautiful and I think you´ll get some good shots there," Timothée assures him. "Besides, I need a long walk to get rid of all the carbs from that pasta of yours."

Armie laughs, shaking his head as he follows Timothée over to the elevator. He gets in alongside him, arms crossed above his chest as his eyes keep wandering to him from time to time.

"You got something to ask me, Hammer?"

"I have many things I want to ask you, but I know you won´t be answering any."

Timothée smirks. "Well, I´m the one who is supposed to ask the questions here anyway."

"But can I ask at least one?" Timothée frowns, but nods his head anyway. Armie smiles slightly, staring at Timothée, until he himself frowns, unsure if he actually should ask the question or not.

"Are you gonna ask me or not?"

"You know what? Is not important, so maybe I´ll ask some other day."

Timothée stares at Armie slightly confused, but nods his head anyway, a part of him relieved he won´t have to get any more personal than he did a couple of minutes ago.

"Whatever you want," he says with a shrug. "Now, let´s focus on our new destination."

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

"Are you sure you don´t wanna go?"

Armie´s voice echoes in the small living room, catching Timothée´s attention. He raises his eyes from the book in his hand, looks over his shoulder and allows his eyes to roam up and down Armie´s body. He´s in all black and his shirt is very well fitting, allowing Timothée a good look at all his muscles. Not that he had not seen it enough, after all it wasn´t even four days ago that he saw him stark naked.

"Yeah, I´m sure," he finally manages to say. "I´m tired as hell from all that walking, besides I should get to work on the article."

"If you want I can stay and help you out."

"That won´t be necessary, but thank you for the offer."

Armie feigns surprise, wide eyes as he clutches to his heart. "He actually said thank you, this is unbelievable."

"Don´t get me started, Hammer."

"Aaaand he´s back to being his usual grumpy self," he sighs, shaking his head. "If you change your mind, the address of the bar is on the kitchen counter."

"I won´t change my mind, but you enjoy your night out."

"Are you sure you´re alright? You´re actually being nice and..."

"Fuck off," he screams while throwing a cushion on Armie´s direction, watching as he slides to the side and laughs. Armie winks at him and he rolls his eyes, biting his lip as he turns on his heels and rushes out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Timothée sighs, taking a quick look around the empty apartment and gets up, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. He drinks it all swiftly, his eyes wandering to the little card on the counter. Going out would be nice, but he really needs to at least get started on his article and being alone for the night might just do the trick.

He walks back to the living room, throws himself on the couch and grabs his laptop, opening a file and watching as the blank page appears in front of him. The cursor blinks, waiting for him to write something down, but nothing seems to come out, no matter how many ideas he has inside his head. 

Timothée sighs, rubs his hands together and leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. He´s been constantly trying to start out the article, write down at least a couple of lines to get some sense of where he is going, but nothing seems to work. He groans, pushes himself up and takes a quick look at the clock by the wall, frowning as he realizes he just spent nearly an hour staring at his computer. He reaches for some leftover pasta, puts it on the microwave and waits until it´s heated, taking a few bites of it before he can even reach the living room again.

Flipping through channels on the television, Timothée watches as a bunch of old and boring movies come to view, before stopping at a channel that is showing Pulp Fiction. If he can´t write, he will at least find something to keep his mind busy. He chuckles, frowns and bites his lips as he watches the movie, riding the emotions as the hours pass him.

It´s almost midnight when he makes it to bed, the document he opened to write, still completely blank and left to the side. He goes through his phone for a couple of minutes, checking his social media, watching silly videos on Youtube and going through some of the photos he took during the day. There´s one thing he can´t take it off of his head though, which causes him to be uneasy and agitated.

He closes all his apps, goes through his contact list and hits Chris number, knowing full well that his friend will be awake and ready to talk. As expected, it doesn´t take more than ten seconds for Chris´ voice to fill his ear.

"What´s up, man?"

"Hey, I hope I´m not interrupting anything."

"Nah, I´m just watching a movie. Is everything alright?"

"I suppose so, I just wanted to talk for a moment."

A few seconds of silence follows and Timothée knows Chris can tell there is something bothering him.

"Why don´t you just tell me what´s happening, Tim? You know it will be easier for the both of us if you´re just honest."

"I´m just...," he sighs, shaking his head. "I don´t even know what it is, I´m just kind of scared, I guess."

"Scared of what?"

"Armie."

"Okay, I´m confused now. I thought he was a good guy."

"Not that kind of scared," Timothée reassures Chris. "More like, scared of the fact I often catch myself talking about my life with him when I really don´t feel like it."

Again, there´s a moment of silence and Timothée bites his lips.

"Timothée, don´t you think if you´re sharing those things is because you actually want to? I mean, I get it, you have a hard time opening up to others, I know it well, but if you feel comfortable enough to talk to this guy, don´t reprimand yourself."

"I barely know him, Chris."

"Yet you feel like sharing things with him, things that might have taken you months to talk with me or Zoe. Tim, sometimes we meet people who we trust immediately and there´s nothing wrong about it."

"Well, it doesn´t feel right to me."

Chris sighs and Timothée lets his eyes wander through the dark room.

"You spent way too much time closing yourself up, Tim. I think it´s time you allow yourself to be open to others, to share your fears and insecurities. You might find a lot of comfort doing that."

"Maybe I shouldn´t have called," he mumbles.

"I´m just being honest."

"I know, I just don´t like it."

"I know."

Timothée sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "I´ll let you get back to whatever you were doing and will get some sleep, I´m really tired."

"Good night," Chris says. "And please, think about what I said."

"I´ll do it."

Timothée hangs up the phone, tossing to the night stand while he slides further down on the bed. He bites his lip, Chris´s words flooding his head as he once again recalls the events of that night and the touch of Armie´s hands on his body. His eyes wander to the nightstand, where the address to the bar is and for a second he thinks of getting up, putting on some clothes and meeting up with Armie there, but before he can do it, he hears the front door open.

He sits down, about to get up from bed, when laughter fills the air, followed by two distinctive voices. One is Armie, of that he is sure, but the other is from another man, someone he doesn´t know. The voices and laughter grow louder and closer, then the sound of the next door closing can be heard. Timothée sighs and closes his eyes, the murmur from the next door bedroom growing louder by the second, until all he can hear is moans.

That is not how he expected to end the night.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

"You seem a bit grumpier than normal today," Armie says while gently nudging Timothée.

The day is sunny and warm, a great contrast to the previous one, which was perfect for Armie, who wanted to visit the harbor. Much to his surprise, Timothée was rather quiet during the whole morning and whenever he did open his mouth, he seemed ready to deliver one of his now well-known snarky remarks. He seemed so carefree the previous day, allowing himself to share more of his life, smiling and laughing along with him. Armie had no idea what could have caused such a change.

He looks over at Timothée once again, trying to understand what could be happening to him, trying to figure out for himself what could have caused such a mood change. But Armie soon realizes he won't be getting anything out of him, Timothée knows exactly how to close himself off, build walls all around him to keep others from getting near. Even if he thought he was being able to break some of them, Armie knew it was a long way until he could actually fully get there.

Aware that his question would probably remain without an answer, Armie grabs his camera, snapping a couple of photos of the place, although his attention is clearly off. He can't help but steal glances at Timothée, watch as he wanders around the pathway, hands stuck in his pocket and eyes distant. He closes his eyes, takes a couple of deep breaths and turns his attention back to his job, allowing himself to get lost in it for a couple of minutes.

By the time he feels he has gathered enough material, Armie sees Timothée sitting alone at a bench, his phone in hand and his eyes wandering around the harbor. He stares at him for a moment, then walks over to him, taking a seat right beside him on the bench. He bites his lip, eyes down on Timothée's hands, which repeatedly tap on his phone.

"Are you gonna tell me what is going on? You seem a bit off today."

"I'm just tired, Hammer."

"Are you sure is just that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I couldn't really get much...."

Armie watches as Timothée trails off the moment his phone starts ringing and he immediately sighs, eyes averting down to his phone, watching the familiar name appear on the screen. The guy left the apartment less than four hours ago and he was already calling him? Armie simply rejects the call and turns his attention back to Timothée, cocking an eyebrow as he notices the annoyed look on his face.

"You don't have to reject the call because of me. I'm sure whatever your boyfriend wants, must be important."

Armie frowns, before chuckling. "What?"

"I mean, you kept me up all night because you two couldn't stop talking and moaning, but maybe he has something else he needs to share with you. So, don't worry about me, you don't want to send him the wrong message."

"Are you seriously annoyed about the fact I had a hook up?"

"No, I'm annoyed because you and your hook up wouldn't let me sleep."

"Is that it?"

"What else would it be?"

_ Is he actually jealous of me? _ Armie asks himself, a slight smile forming on his lips. He cocks and eyebrow, trying his best to hide the look of amusement on his face and slowly moves closer to Timothée, who sighs, his eyes locked on his and his hands holding tight onto the bench.

"I don't know, I have a feeling your annoyance might be the result of something else."

Timothée swallows, shaking his head slowly. "I have no idea what you´re talking about, Hammer."

"I think you do."

"Fuck off," he rolls his eyes, pushing himself up.

"It's okay," Armie says while stretching out his legs and arms, watching from the corner of his eye as Timothée turns to him. "You're actually really cute when you're annoyed, so I don't mind."

"What did you just say?"

Armie smirks, pulling himself up too.

"You heard it."

Armie can barely contain his smile as he watches Timothée blush, his hand slightly trembling as he runs his fingers through his curls. He takes a step closer to him, eyebrows arched as he leans forward, his face just inches away from Timothée's.

"You still want to take a look around or you ready to go? Because I'm starving," he says amused, watching the million expressions that go through Timothée's face.

He winks down at him, takes a step back and turns on his heel, heading down the pathway. He would give the world to see the look on Timothée's face right now, but he keeps his head straight, only hearing the footsteps that follow him.

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
**

_ You're actually really cute when you're annoyed... _

How long would it take Timothée to get over those words? To forget the look on Armie´s face when he delivered them, or how he smirked when he saw the look on his face upon hearing them? Timothée was fully aware that Armie didn´t have any occult meanings to his words, he was just being playful, but a part of his brain couldn´t help but overthink everything.

The past few days had been weird, to say the least. Seeing Armie stark naked, having his arms wrapped around his waist, hearing him have sex with some random guy, it all seemed to trigger something inside of him and he absolutely hated that feeling. He hated to feel exposed, he hated to feel like he couldn´t hide anything from Armie. He had spent years building walls around him, keeping his emotions at bay, protecting himself from the harm of getting too close to people who would end up leaving or hurting him.

And while a part of him wanted to hear Chris´ advice and just allow himself to be open, he was afraid of where that could lead him through. It was tiring and sometimes lonely, but his way of living life had kept him from getting any more hurt than he had already been and he wouldn´t risk going down that path again. Not even because of Armie, who seemed to extract things from him without him even noticing.

_ You just gotta focus on what´s truly important _ , he tells himself while reaching for his laptop. And for a moment he thinks that is the perfect solution, focus on work and the article he has to write would keep him from thinking bullshit, but of course those thoughts go downhill once he opens a document and realizes Armie is his work, therefore there´s absolutely no way of removing him from his thoughts completely.

But in some twisted way, life seems to have an easy way of taking his mind off of Armie. As an email notification comes to the screen, Timothée arches an eyebrow, but clicks on it anyway, sighing as he notices is from a google alert. Suddenly he feels like a total moron for even putting that alert on, since he knows it will only cause him pain and suffering.

He opens the email anyway, lips quivering as he reads it. He closes his eyes, takes a couple of deep breaths and nearly throws the computer back on the coffee table, rushing over to the kitchen afterwards. He pours himself some water, drinking it all in one go and then sighs, gripping onto the counter for support.

Timothée hates himself at this moment, he hates all the emotions that are going through his brain and body. He wants to feel numb, forget everything that is happening inside of him and just let himself go.

He rushes to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face and then stares at himself in the mirror, his disheveled curls falling down his forehead and nearly clouding his vision. Why are things getting so weird all of a sudden for him?

He lets out an exasperated sigh, pushes his hair back and walks out of the bathroom. By the time he reaches the living room, he sees Armie sitting on the couch, his laptop in his hands as he reads something on the screen.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Armie raises his gaze to look at him, an eyebrow cocked as he places the laptop down on the coffee table.

"Is this... Is this your father?"

"Who the fuck gave you the right to go through my computer?"

"I didn´t go through your computer, Timothée. It was open on the coffee table, I sat here and happened to see it open on an alert about Marc Chalamet, which I can only assume is your father."

"I don´t fucking care if it was open, it still doesn´t give you the right to go and read it."

"I´m sorry, okay?"

"You say that a lot, but keep doing things that need an apology," Timothée slams the laptop close, his hands nearly shaking in rage as he looks down at Armie. "Maybe you should think twice before doing things, then you wouldn´t have to apologize all the time."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me? First you read my journals, then you keep trying to force something out of me even though you´ve already noticed I don´t wanna talk, now you go through my computer? What´s wrong with you?"

"Again," Armie says calmly while getting up. "I didn´t go through your computer, okay? It was sitting here, open for anyone to see. Maybe you should just try to be more careful next time."

"Oh, of course, because it´s my fault."

"You seriously need to work on whatever internal issues you have, because you can´t go on swapping from a super nice guy to an asshole in a matter of seconds."

"Oh there he goes, Armie Hammer, photographer and psychologist."

"What´s your problem with me?"

"My problem with you is that you´re too damn perfect, with that smile plastered on your face all the time, always in a good mood. Not everyone is like you, I´m not gonna sit down and share my life with you, a complete stranger, so stop trying."

"I don´t know exactly what happened between you and your father, but it´s pretty clear that article triggered something in you, so now you´re aiming that anger at me. You can keep doing it if you want, but I´m not gonna play this game, alright?"

Timothée blinks a couple of times, clenched jaw and fisted hands. He closes his eyes, takes a couple of deep breaths and reaches for his phone on the coffee table, placing it on his pockets as he rushes out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. He stops by the staircase, a couple of tears streaming down his cheek as he buries his face in his hands. It takes him a few minutes to recover, stop the tears and get his mind back in place, although he doubts that will be possible today.

Timothée takes a look over his shoulder, debating to go back inside the apartment and just lock himself in the bedroom, but that idea also seems like a bad one. He rushes down the stairs, swiftly reaching the front door and stepping out of the small building, inhaling deeply as the fresh air hits him.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

A part of Armie was ashamed for taking that laptop in his hands and reading the article on it, while another part knew for sure that Timothée´s aggression wasn´t really aimed at him. The article he found on Timothée´s computer was about an artist based in California, who gave a speech at UCLA about his work, surrounded by his wife and two children. The man in question was Timothée´s father, which obviously was what caused him to snap at him the way he did.

His father was away, on the other side of the country, with a new family and Timothée was left alone with all his anger. Armie wouldn´t ever be able to understand why a man would do such a thing, leave a son that loved him behind and completely erase him from his life. He can´t even imagine the kind of scars that must have left on Timothée.

Actually, he does.

The serious attitude, not talking much about his feelings or his life. Timothée had clearly built walls all around him, keeping anyone from getting too close to him and Armie was nearly sure this was all because of his father. Too bad for him anyway, who missed out on the incredible and talented son he had.

With a sigh, Armie pushes himself up from the couch, taking a quick glance at the clock. It´s nearly eleven and he knows there´s absolutely no way he´s getting any sleep, so he rushes over to the bathroom, takes a quick shower and puts on some clean clothes. He stands in front of the mirror for a minute, running his fingers through his hair before he grabs his wallet and phone, heading out of the bedroom.

Armie takes a look around the place, grabs the keys on the counter and walks out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. He rushes down the stairs, a little smile on the corner of his lips as the fresh air of the night hits him. He bites his lip, trying to decide where to go, then remembers Timothée mentioned a really cool and well known bar not far from the building.

He walks down the busy streets, eyes attentive to everyone and everything around him. It only takes him five minutes to make it to the bar, which is crowded and loud. He squeezes himself through the crowd, making his way to the counter and finds an empty stool, which he promptly sits on.

"What can I get you, man?"

"Just a beer, thanks."

"One minute."

Armie nods, turning around on the seat as his eyes wander around the bar. There are a couple of interesting people on the dance floor, guys and girls that catch his attention, although he doesn´t really feel like flirting with anyone right now. The whole thing with Timothée did leave him a bit tired and stressed.

"Here you go, dude."

Armie turns back around on the stool, nodding his head as the bartender slides a bottle of Corona in his direction. He takes a couple sips of it, tapping his finger on the wooden counter as the voices and music fill his ear. The carefree atmosphere of the place slowly helps him relax, either that or the beer´s effect is a lot quicker than he expected.

Suddenly there´s a laugh and Armie sits up straight, cocking an eyebrow. He might not have heard it often, but he knows that laugh pretty well, probably more than he had ever foreseen. He leaves the beer on the counter, turns around on the stool and allows his eyes to scan through the place, swiftly spotting Timothée on a far corner.

He´s got his hand tightly holding onto a man´s arm, laughing loudly at whatever he is saying. In any other moment, Armie wouldn´t really pay much attention to it, but it´s easy for him to see Timothée is off, completely wasted.

He watches the scene in silence, but paying attention to everything that happens. The man is cornering him, his large hands all over Timothée as he whispers in his ear. Armie frowns, bites his lip and hops off of the stool, heading over to Timothée as fast as he can manage.

Just as he approaches them, the man grips tightly onto Timothée´s waist, pulling him closer to his body, despite the obvious fact he is trying to keep himself away. His blood boils immediately, his hands turning into fists and he has to control himself not to punch the guy the moment he gets near them.

"Let go of him," Armie says in a stern voice, catching the man´s attention.

"Dude, I don´t know who you are, but you can leave me and my friend alone."

"Your friend?" Armie scoffs, taking a step closer to the man. "Your friend probably doesn´t even know your name, not to mention the fact he clearly doesn´t want to be with you right now, so maybe you should be the one to leave."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Before Armie can even think of saying anything back, Timothée reaches out for his shoulder, squeezing it tightly as he vomits all over the man. While the man shrieks in disgust, Armie bites hard on his lip, preventing himself from laughing. 

"Armie, I don´t feel good."

Armie nods, sliding his arm around Timothée´s waist and keeping a tight grip on him as he walks over to the bathroom, ignoring the man´s cursing and yelling behind them. He pushes the bathroom door open, sits Timothée on one of the toilet seats and reaches for some paper towels, cleaning his mouth.

"My head hurts."

"I know, I´m gonna take you back to the apartment, don´t worry."

Timothée nods, his eyes distant as Armie cleans his face and pushes some of his curls back. He kneels down in front of him, wets a paper towel and swipes on his forehead, cleaning the sweat and any possible dirt left on him.

"C´mon, time to go."

Armie helps him up, arm tightly wrapped around his waist as they slowly make their way out of the bar and to the street. The fresh air clearly brings Timothée back to life, helping ease his sickness, although it´s pretty clear he´s still far from being sober.

The five minute walk back to the apartment suddenly is three times longer, and even Timothée´s slim body becomes heavy as Armie guides him down the streets of Boston. He starts laughing all of a sudden, which causes him to stumble a couple of times, before he steadies himself up, holding tight onto Armie´s shirt.

"What´s so funny?"

"You," Timothée answers while looking up at Armie, a lazy smile on his lips.

"I´m funny?"

"Yeah, you´re funny...and really tall. Why are you so tall?"

Armie chuckles. "You gotta ask my parents."

Timothée laughs again, turning to face Armie, his hands sliding from his shoulders down to his chest, where they stop. Armie cocks an eyebrow and without saying a word looks down, his eyes locked on Timothée´s hands.

"Why are you so damn hot too, huh? It´s really unfair, you know? Because you got all these people all over you, so people like me barely have a chance."

"I think you have enough guys into you, Tim, no need to worry."

"That´s not what I meant."

Armie swallows dryly, his eyes locked on Timothée as he steps closer to him, his hands sliding to the back of his neck, playing with his hair. He bites his lip, shivers running down his spine as he realizes the proximity of their bodies and the heat that emanates from Timothée.

"You got beautiful eyes."

Things seem a bit surreal to Armie at the moment, his shaky hands reaching out to hold onto Timothée´s waist, while he gets on his tiptoes, his face mere inches away from his. The whole situation takes him back to the night in Providence, the way they looked into each other´s eyes, how it seemed like his hand fitted perfectly into Timothée´s body.

"Your lips are pretty and I bet they taste good too."

"Timothée..."

Armie trails off, feeling his body move forward, his head slowly leaning closer to Timothée to the point their lips are nearly touching. He closes his eyes, his grip around his waist tightening until he shakes his head, taking a couple of steps back. Armie is fully aware of his attraction towards Timothée, but this is not how he wants things to happen. Timothée is completely wasted and kissing right now would be taking as much advantage as the guy at the bar was doing. Besides, if they actually do cross that line, Armie hopes he can at least remember it.

"C´mon, we´re almost home."

Armie holds onto Timothée´s waist, dragging him along with him through the streets, his heart beating faster and his mind running wild while Timothée keeps on mumbling incoherent words. By the time they do make it to the apartment, Armie is tired and his arm is tingling, but he keeps himself together until he makes it to Timothée´s bedroom.

He helps Timothée out of his jacket, throws it to the armchair nearby and then gently lies him back on the bed, only to have Timothée grip onto his shirt and pull him down on top of him. Armie does his best not to squeeze Timothée, chuckling as he laughs hysterically, his curls bouncing around. With a sigh, Armie leans on his elbows, gently tucking a few curls behind Timothée´s ears.

He stares down at him for a moment, a gentle smile on his lips as he watches him close his eyes, slowly succumbing to the tiredness that comes along with the drunk state. He waits a couple of seconds, then pushes himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed as his eyes wander through the room. He allows his mind to drift back to them on the streets, the soft touch of Timothée´s hand on his chest, his hot breathing all over him, his lips inviting him.

Armie sighs, shakes his head and pulls himself up, taking one good look at Timothée. He removes his sneakers, throws them to the side and then gently pulls the covers on top of him, doing his best not to wake him up. He stops by the bedroom door, looking at Timothée over his shoulder before he finally closes the door, heading to his own bedroom.

It´s safe to say this day had been a rollercoaster.


	10. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys, Interrupted.

Timothée stumbles across the hallway, his head pounding as if a million miniature versions of him were hammering away his brain. There's a bad taste in his mouth, the undeniable taste of someone who vomited the night before and barely had the strength to brush his teeth afterwards. And to be completely honest, Timothée barely remembers making it back to the apartment, let alone lying in bed.

He makes it to the living room, eyes hurting due to the Sun light that comes in through the open windows. Armie is sitting by the counter, phone in hand as he sips from a mug. Timothée blinks a couple of times, not only adjusting his eyes to the light, but also trying to put his thoughts back together. He doesn't have a clear memory at the moment, but he can swear he remembers Armie falling on top of him in the bed, while he laughed.  _ Great, another awkward moment to the list _ , he says to himself before walking to the kitchen.

"Well, look who's finally awake," Armie says as he notices him.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven thirty," he slides a plate of waffles over to Timothée, who arches an eyebrow. "I figured you'd be going through a terrible hangover, so sugar will help."

"Thanks," he mumbles while hopping on one of the stools, leaning his cheek on his hand. "Shouldn't we be on our way to Maine right now?"

"We should, but after the night you had, I thought it would be a bit cruel to wake you up early and force you on the road."

Timothée sighs, nodding his head slowly, because even that subtle movement is capable of taking him off balance at the moment. He takes a deep breath, reaches for the coffee pot on the counter and fills a mug, drinking nearly the whole thing in one go.

"I feel like I owe you an apology."

"For what exactly? Yelling at me for no reason, nearly vomiting on me or for postponing the trip?"

"All three of them?" He shrugs. "Although, I'm pretty sure all the vomit was directed to the other guy."

"Do you even know that guy's name?"

"I barely remember my name right now, Hammer."

Armie nods, but remains in silence, which to Timothée says quite a lot. He's still bothered by the way he acted the day before and he has all the right to do so, Timothée acted like a brat, blaming Armie for stupid things and aiming all his anger at him when all he truly wanted was to scream at his father.

"Armie," he starts, watching as Armie raises his gaze to look at him. "I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday, I was completely out of line. I allowed my own issues to cloud my better judgment and end up treating you in a way you did not deserve it. It won't happen again, I promise you."

Armie sighs, nodding his head.

"It's okay, Tim. I shouldn't have read that article or taken your computer, even if it was open on the table. Besides, I can understand that you got angry, disappointed and I was the nearest target. We've all made mistakes, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Thank you for being understanding, specially with someone like me."

"What you mean by that?," Armie asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Someone who's been nothing but a bitch to you. If I were you, I'd have left me in the middle of the road a long time ago."

Armie can't help but chuckle and the sound somehow brings some kind of comfort to Timothée.

"If I leave you all alone in the middle of the road, by the time I come back to New York, you'll have written the most horrifying article about me and I can't let that happen." Timothée nods, a small smile on the corner of his lips. "I have a reputation to take care of, I need to be nice to you even if all my instincts say otherwise."

"Good thing you're a better person than I am."

Armie sighs, shaking his head as he leans closer to him. "Okay, you can stop now. You're not a bad person, we're just different from one another and that's alright. I've learned to appreciate your grumpy way, actually."

Timothée smirks, nodding his head. "Because I'm cute, right?"

Armie chuckles, nodding in return.

"Yeah, because you're cute."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

"Thank you," Armie smiles at the clerk while reaching for the bottles of Gatorade and the Pringles, tucking them all under his arm as he pushes the door open and steps out to the street.

The car is parked just outside the gas station, Timothée's feet visible all the way from there. He's a lot better, but the headache is still eating away his brain, so much that he didn't even try to turn on the music. As he gets back to the car, Armie slides into his seat and tosses one of the bottles over to Timothée, who sighs in relief.

"Thanks," he mumbles while opening the bottle.

Armie shrugs, opens his own bottle and places of the cup holder, turning on the car straight afterwards. He drives down the road, the signs indicating they're getting closer to Maine, where they will be for almost four days before getting back on the road towards New York.

On the first day of their trip, things seemed a lot more tricky to Armie, and he wasn't really sure they would be able to make it all the way to Maine without nearly killing each other. Yet now, he couldn't even think of the trip coming to an end, which would cause him and Timothée to part ways.

As weird as their relationship seemed to be, Armie had truly enjoyed every single second he spent with Timothée. His grumpy way, his cheeky remarks and even his musical taste were things Armie learned to appreciate. Maybe they would be able to maintain some level of acquaintance once they were back to New York, build a friendship or something like it. All Armie knew for sure, was that he didn't want to lose contact for good.

"How you feeling?," he asks while taking a quick glance at Timothée, who has his eyes closed and his head leaned back on the seat.

"I'm getting better and the aspirin is starting to kick in, so I think the headache will be gone soon."

"I hope so, I had a whole night out planned for us, lots of food and drinking."

He smirks as he feels Timothée's eyes on him, and quickly lets his gaze turn to him, cocking his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You're kidding, right? 'Cause the only drinking I will be doing today is this Gatorade and water."

"Haven't you heard the best way to get rid of a hangover is to drink more?"

"Will you be taking me to the hospital when I get in a fucking coma?"

"Maybe."

Timothée chuckles, closing his eyes for a brief second.

"I still can't remember much of what that guy said to me," Timothée admits, attracting Armie's look. "But I remember he was gripping onto my arm very aggressively."

"He was trying to convince you to go back to his apartment," Armie says, anger building up inside of him whenever he remembers the look on the guy's face. "You're lucky I decided to go out and happened to remember the bar you mentioned earlier."

"I know that," Timothée whispers, while rubbing his temples. "And I can only thank you for that. You truly were my savior last night."

"Almost like a character from a CW show, who shows up exactly when the lead girl needs him the most. Right?"

Timothée chuckles, turning to look at Armie. "You really liked that reference, didn't you?"

Armie shrugs, smiling over at Timothée.

"Maybe."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée opens his eyes, blinking a couple of times as he yawns, looking out of the window. He sighs, sits up straight and tries his best to stretch out his legs, although there´s not much room for it. If he can barely get his legs straight, he wonders how much trouble it must be for Armie, whose legs seem to run for miles. He smiles softly, looks over to the side and notices he is completely focused on the road, his fingers gently tapping the steering wheel.

For a moment, Timothée allows his eyes to remain in Armie, admiring his beauty. He has this classical Hollywood actor vibe, paired with the most soothing voice he has ever heard and quite the hypnotic laugh. Timothée hates to admit, but he feels more and more drawn to Armie as the days go by, but he needs to make sure whatever this thing is, won´t get anywhere other than just wishful thinking. Not only would it end up causing him a headache, Armie is part of his job and he must remain professional.

"Hey," Armie says softly, turning to him with a smile. "How you feeling?"

"Like a brand new man," Timothée says while stretching out his arms. "All I needed was a bit more sleep."

"That´s good to hear."

"How much long until we make it to Bangor?"

"We´re already in Bangor, just about to reach the Inn."

Timothée nods, reaching for his bottle of Gatorade and finishing it all in one long gulp, a sigh of contentment escaping him afterwards. He pulls his legs up, resting his chin on his knee and watches as the trees and houses pass them by, the old town vibe bringing a smile to his face. As much as he loves the vibrant energy of New York, he also enjoys a few days of quietness in places like this.

He inhales deeply, happy that all traces of his hangover are gone and he can finally be himself again. And as much as he knows is a tough promise to keep, Timothée promises himself that he will never drink that much again. He smiles as Armie turns on a corner, parking the car outside of a yellow house, filled with flowers on the garden and two large wood benches by the balcony.

"We´re here," Armie says with a beaming smile, reaching for his backpack on the back seat. 

Timothée nods, reaches for his own backpack and hops off of the car, a sigh of relief escaping him as he finally manages to stretch out his body. He looks around the neighborhood, which seems to be quiet, then follows Armie down the pathway and inside the house, which front door remains open.

They are greeted by a woman in her late thirties, a bright smile on her face as she walks towards them. Her blonde hair is on a beautiful braid and her green eyes are kind and welcoming; luckily for them, so far they have only encountered nice people on their way. Although the guy from the previous night couldn´t really be considered nice.

"Good night. What can I help you with?"

"I have a reservation under Hammer," Armie explains as Timothée leans against the counter, eyes roaming around the place.

"Oh, Mr. Hammer, we tried to get in contact with you the past two days."

"Did something happen?"

"You emailed us, trying to change your reservation to two bedrooms, but unfortunately we couldn´t make it and..."

"And we´ll have to share the room," Timothée finishes the phrase as the woman nods. "There´s really no problem."

"Yeah, but the room we have available only has one bed."

Timothée arches his eyebrows, swallowing dry as he stares at the woman in disbelief. Until a few days ago, he would simply be mad with the idea of sharing a bed with Armie, but after everything that happened in the last three days, he can only think of how awkward the whole situation is gonna be.

"I can try to talk to some other Inn around the area and see if they have two bedrooms available."

Armie remains in silence for a moment, but shrugs as he lets his eyes fall upon Timothée.

"Is your call."

"Is okay, we´ll have the bedroom."

"That´s lovely, and I´ll make sure to let you know if any other bedrooms become available."

"Thank you, we appreciate it."

Timothée nods in agreement, a small smile on his face as the woman reaches for a set of keys and hands it to Armie.

"You´re on bedroom number 14, is the one down the hallway. There´s a nice little balcony from where you can catch a glimpse of Stephen King´s house. I have a feeling you´ll appreciate it."

"Thank you," Timothée says, shaking hands with her before he follows Armie up the stairs.

He looks at him up and down, biting his lip as he wonders just how awkward the night is going to be. They were actually settling for a nice little relationship, the last thing they needed was this mess. He shakes his head, trying not to get too caught up in his thoughts and leans against the wall as Armie unlocks the door, revealing a nice and well decorated bedroom with a California King size bed.  _ Okay, maybe it won´t be that bad, there´s enough space for three people in that bed _ .

"It looks nice," Armie mumbles while throwing his backpack on the bed, his eyes wandering around the bedroom.

"It really does."

While Armie is wandering around the bedroom, opening closets and the minibar, Timothée walks over to glass door and slides it open, stepping into the balcony, which has two chairs on the side. He leans against the rail, eyes roaming through the streets until he spots the large house on the end of the road and chuckles, suddenly remembering Chris´ words.

"What´s so funny?"

"Chris wanted a Stephen King autograph."

Armie smirks, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed above his chest as he keeps his eyes on Timothée.

"He also made me promise I would set you up with him if..."

Timothée trails off, biting his lip as he realizes what he almost said. He clears his throat, watching from the corner of his eye as Armie frowns, slightly confused.

"If what?"

"Nothing."

"Oh c´mon, tell me."

"No, really, it´s nothing."

He tries to put on a smile on his face, despite the fact his cheeks are burning with embarrassment. Thank God he was able to stop himself, because the last thing they need now is a conversation about how Chris was sure they were going to end up sleeping together.

"You really not gonna tell me?"

"Armie, ninety percent of the things Chris says are bullshit, so trust me, it's nothing important."

"Alright, if you say so."

Timothée nods, sighing in relief as Armie pushes himself off of the wall and walks back inside the bedroom. He waits a minute, then follows him inside, locking the door behind him.

"What you say we order some food and watch a movie? I´m still a bit sore of carrying you around the city and I think what I need today is a relaxing night."

"Oh, please, as if carrying me is such a tiring task for a giant like you."

"You probably weigh twice as much when you´re drunk, Tim. Besides, you kept stumbling around and my arm was practically numb when we made it back to the apartment."

"Drama queen."

Armie shrugs, throwing himself on the bed. He fixes the pillows, reaches for his phone and then turns back to Timothée, inquisiting look in his eyes.

"You choose the movie and I choose the food?"

Timothée shrugs. "Sounds good to me."

"How are you with spicy food?"

"I´m excellent with it," he grabs the remote, turning the television on and flipping through the film catalogue. "But maybe not too spicy, okay?"

"I thought you were excellent with it?"

Timothée rolls his eyes, making Armie laugh.

"So? What´s the truth? Are you good with it or not?"

"I am, I just think after a hangover, eating extremely spicy food isn´t exactly the best idea."

Armie stares at him for a moment, then nods. "Okay, you might be right."

"Thank you."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The bedroom has suddenly gone quiet, the curtains blowing softly with the wind while on the television the credits roll. There are boxes of Thai food on the floor, sneakers and backpacks tossed to the small couch under the television, while on the bed, Armie and Timothée sit down, a mess of pillows in between them.

Taxi Driver was the chosen film of the night, one Timothée had seen once before in a classroom filled with people and never really got the chance to pay much attention to it. Luckily tonight things had been different, because while him and Armie kept a casual conversation going, making remarks about the movie and the actors, they actually paid attention to it, unlike his classmates in college.

"This is one of the best films ever made," Armie finally says while hugging a pillow against his chest. "Everything about it is incredible, from the script to the set pieces and the outfits."

Timothée remains in silence, but slowly nods his head.

"What? You didn't like it?"

"Oh no, I liked it."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There's no problem," he shrugs. "I was just wondering, why does a movie have to be so meticulously perfect to be considered a classic? I mean, you're watching the movie and your brain is thinking of color pallets, camera framing and all these little details that compose the scenario. Every scene works as a photograph for you, composed perfectly."

"Well, I am a photographer, it's natural that I get attached to all these little things."

"Exactly and I think as a journalist I do too. My point here, if I even have one, is why we've been imposed this idea that a movie has to be perfect to be good. Can't a silly movie be a classic? Something that makes you laugh and helps you forget about your problems should be just as valued as something that makes you think and question the world. Right?"

Armie frowns, but eventually nods his head, his eyes locked on Timothée.

"I suppose you're right."

"You for example," he turns to face Armie. "What's your favorite movie?"

"Clockwork Orange."

"Now, forget about color pallets, visual effects and idealism. Tell me that one movie you'll see thousands of times and never get tired of it."

Armie remains in silence for a second, but then smiles. "That would be White Chicks."

"White Chicks?" Timothée bursts out laughing, his curls bouncing around. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that."

"Like you said yourself, is a movie that makes me laugh and helps me forget a bit about the world."

"And there's nothing on that movie people would consider classic or a masterpiece, right?"

"I guess so," Armie shrugs. "What about you? What is yours?"

"The classical one or the feel good one?"

"Feel good."

"Blue Lagoon," he says with a shrug as Armie cocks his eyebrows. "I remember seeing when I was a kid, I loved it and whenever it is on, I try my best to watch it. Nothing makes me happier than lying under the sheets on a rainy Sunday, with a bowl of popcorn by my side and watch Blue Lagoon."

"You're unpredictable."

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It can be both, but mostly good."

Timothée smiles, his eyes locking on Armie's for a moment, until he feels his body get hotter. He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair and turns his attention back to the television.

"Well, guess it's time for bed now. I still need to fully recover myself."

"Yeah and we have a long day tomorrow," Armie says while moving around on the bed, fixing the pillows. "We're going on a hike early in the morning and..."

"What are you doing?," Timothée asks confused as he watches Armie create a small wall of pillows in between them.

"Well, one of your ground rules was to make sure we always had separate beds. Since we can't have that, I figured you'd like some sort of wall to divide our space."

"Are you fucking serious? We're both grown men, Hammer, I think we can easily share the same bed without much problem."

Armie shrugs. "You made sure to highlight the rule that said separate beds, I'm just following your instructions."

"No, you're just trying to annoy me."

"Payback for carrying your drunk ass around Boston."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, it was just a few blocks. Stop being a baby about this, alright?"

"Well, I'll remember that next time you need help."

"And if you keep annoying me I'll make you sleep on that couch."

Armie's eyes roam to the couch, frowning.

"I can't get even half of my body on that couch."

"I know," Timothée smiles.

"You can be evil, Chalamet."

Timothée shrugs, a little smirk on his face as he leans back down on the bed. He turns to the side as Armie gets up, removing his shirt as he makes his way around the bedroom. He tries his best to keep himself from looking, but when he least expects, his eyes are stuck on Armie, who's taking off his jeans.

His eyes wander down his naked back, all the way to his round and meaty ass, covered by the thin black fabric of his boxers. He feels his cheeks burning, tingling sensation on his lower body and quickly turns to the side, facing the window as he tries his best to fill his head with random thoughts, anything that would stop a boner from forming on his pants.

As he slowly finds himself calming down, Armie appears in front of him once again, closing the balcony door and pulling on the curtains. He bites his lip as he turns around, his tight boxers leaving nothing to the imagination, although he doesn't really need to imagine since he saw the real thing right in front of him.

When Armie lies down on the bed beside him, their eyes meet and for a brief moment it seems like everything else around them has stopped. They are close, bodies nearly pressed together even though they have a California King bed at their disposal, which says a lot amid their silence. Armie smiles slightly at Timothée, then turns on his side, pulling the covers on top of him.

"Good night," he nearly whispers as Timothée nods.

"Good night."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

There's a small breeze that hits the trees from time to time, the Sun shining shyly behind a cloud while the streets start to fill with people, some jogging and some riding their bikes. On the balcony of the bedroom, Armie is sitting in one of the chairs, his feet up on the railing as his eyes wander the street.

He's got his phone pressed against his ear, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth as he hears his mother's voice on the other side of the line. After Lee stopped by their home to check on them, she had tried to contact him a couple of times without much success and now that she finally got it, Armie was nearly five minutes in a rant about how he should be enjoying his life instead of worrying so much about her.

"...can I talk now?"

A little chuckle escapes her and Armie can't help but smile, always pleased to hear a laugh or joyful voice coming from his mother.

"Yes, you can talk now."

"I know you keep asking me not to worry, but you do understand that is nearly impossible, right?"

"I know, Armie."

"I worry about you just as much as you worry about me, so stop asking me to forget about everything and enjoy life, because no matter how much fun I'm having, a part of me will always be thinking of you."

"I'm so proud of you, Armie. You've grown up to be such an outstanding man and sometimes I can't even believe how lucky I am to have you as my son."

"I'm the lucky one, mom. You taught me everything I know, you made me the man I am today, so that's all on you."

She doesn't say anything back, but Armie can hear a low sigh coming from her while also the sound of furniture moving. He frowns, slightly scared that something might have happened, but then hears her voice again.

"How's the trip going, sweetheart?"

"Quite good," he looks over his shoulder for a second, watching as Timothée moves around on the bed. "I've been having fun meeting new places and the photos are coming out beautiful."

"I saw the ones you sent your father, they are stunning. How about your partner?"

Armie chuckles. "He's not my partner, mom."

"I don't mean it that way," she says with a chuckle, before adding with a more serious voice, "unless you two are in fact a thing."

"No, we're not."

"Are you sure?"

He looks back inside the room once more, a small smile on the corner of his lips as he notices Timothée rubbing his eyes, his curls falling down his face.

"Armie?"

"I'd say he's a good friend, mom."

"If you say so."

"Besides, this is supposed to be a professional trip and..."

"Two handsome guys, in their twenties, traveling in a small car for over two weeks. I'd say professionalism might fail to prevail over basic human instincts."

Armie laughs, shaking his head. His mother never seems to lose her humour, which is something he truly appreciates.

"I fucking love you, mom. But I can promise you that nothing has happened between us."

"Well, there's still a bit over a week left. Just because it didn't happen, doesn't mean it won't."

"Okay, what is this? Is this your way of saying I've been single for way too long?"

"You have."

"Oh God..."

"But don't worry, I won't dwell much on the subject. Maybe because your father is annoying me and keeps shouting that breakfast is ready."

Armie chuckles. "Then go join him, you know he hates eating on his own."

"I know," she sighs. "Have a safe trip, son. And please, send us more photos, you know we love them."

"I will," he sits up straight. "I love you, mom."

"Love you too, son."

Armie smiles to himself as he hangs up the phone, pushing himself up and walking over to the railing, leaning against it as his eyes roam down the street. He hears footsteps and looks over his shoulder, smiling slightly at Timothée.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

"Are you ready for some hiking?"

Timothée sighs, a frown on his face. "Not really, but I'll put myself through this."

"I promise it's not that difficult and keep in mind you won't have to sleep in a tent."

"I would leave you alone in the tent if you ever suggested camping again, Hammer."

Armie rolls his eyes, but chuckles anyway. "The Inn doesn't have a breakfast buffet, so why don't you get dressed and we head to eat something light before the track?"

"Okay, just give me a few minutes."

Armie nods, leaning against the wall as he watches Timothée enter the room. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the ground and then reaches for something clean on his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he gracefully walks towards the bedroom.

Once he hears the door close, Armie makes his way inside the bedroom, changing into clean pants and a shirt. He hears the shower running and suddenly his imagination starts to run wild. The way the water must cascade on Timothée's curls, causing them to fall all over his eyes. The drops of water that must be running down his back, all the way to his petite ass. 

_ Get a grip, Hammer _ . He groans, rubs his face in his hands and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep such thoughts away from his head. And just as he actually begins to do so, the door opens and Timothée emerges from it, a towel wrapped around his waist, drops of water running down his body.

"Forgot my pants," he chuckles while rushing to his bag and picking a pair of pants, before running back to the bathroom.

Armie simply swallows, feeling every little fiber in his body react to the sight, but most importantly -and frightening-, his cock swell a bit. He bites his lip, hands resting on top of his crotch as he tries to focus on whatever would keep himself from getting a boner.

"You alright?"

The voice startles Armie and much to his surprise, the simple thought of being caught is enough to rush things down at the moment.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Are you ready?"

"Ready and starving."

"Great, then let's go."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The park is a lot more empty than they expected it to be, just a few groups of people wandering around the tracks, admiring the gazebo or sitting around one of the many benches. After about two hours of walking around the park, following some of the hiking tracks and exploring the small waterfronts, they stop by one of the waterfalls, Timothée immediately slumps down on the grass, a tired look on his face as his eyes wander around the area.

The waterfall is small, but still provides a relaxing and rather cooling atmosphere, which is everything Timothée could ask for at this moment. He sighs, reaches for the bottle of water in his backpack and takes a few sips of it, closing his eyes as he feels the liquid run down his throat. He looks up at Armie, squinting his eyes because of the Sun, and smiles softly. He's standing right on the edge of the little pond, arms wide open as he inhales deeply.

If it was anyone else, Timothée would probably roll his eyes, but Armie somehow made it look cool. He heard the end of his conversation with his mother earlier in the morning, and he knew how worried he had been about her the last couple of days, so he had a feeling that moment was more about appreciation and being thankful than anything else.

"You want some water?"

Armie looks over his shoulder, nodding his head and heads over to Timothée, taking the bottle from him and taking a few sips, a sigh escaping him as he does so. He hands it back to Timothée, sits down next to him on the grass and rolls over his shoulders before stretching his arms out. He reaches for his shirt, taking it off and wipes up the sweat on his forehead with it, before placing it down on the grass and laying his head on it.

Timothée bites his lip, eyes wandering to the side as he admires Armie's naked torso. He runs his tongue through his lips, unable to take his eyes away from Armie, unable to control the thoughts that suddenly take over his brain. The way the Sun shines down on Armie's golden skin, nearly causing his chest hair to glisten, sends a shiver down his spine and Timothée has to chug down on his water to keep himself cool.

"I've heard there's a beautiful cemetery not that far from here," Armie says catching Timothée's attention. "You feel like going there?"

Timothée chuckles. "Another cemetery so soon? I'm starting to get slightly scared of that behavior of yours, dude."

Armie opens an eye, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Don't worry, I'm not really in the mood for much today, so I think I'll just do the tourist route."

"I noticed you didn't even bring your camera."

"We all deserve a day off, don't we?"

"We definitely do," he agrees. "Although I gotta admit I should at least try to get some work done, I'm feeling like such a lazy ass lately."

"You're not lazy, you're doing research."

Timothée chuckles, lying down beside Armie. His eyes wander to the sky, admiring the clouds as he inhales deeply, feeling Armie's smell fill his nostrils. He closes his eyes for a brief second, trying to get his thoughts in order, but all he can think is running his hands down Armie's sweaty chest, tangle his fingers on the golden chest hair and feel his warm skin against his palm. He has absolutely no idea when this happened, but it's pretty clear that he is extremely attracted to Armie and he has absolutely no idea of what to do about it.

_ I know a couple of things we could do _ , a little voice says inside his brain as he turns his hands into fists, forcing those thoughts out of him.

"Timothée?"

"Huh," he mumbles while turning to look at Armie, who's staring at him slightly worried.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Armie nods and Timothée swiftly pulls himself up, grabbing his backpack while doing so. "You want to stay here some more or you ready to go? I really could use a long and cold shower."

Armie nods, standing his hand out for Timothée, who rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, using all his force to help him up. He stands a couple of inches away from Timothée, eyes wandering down at him while a smile appears on his face. While Timothée bites his lip, trying his best to keep his composure, Armie slides a finger down his forehead and tucks a curl behind his ear.

"Let's go then."

Timothée frowns as Armie swiftly turns on his heels and heads down the grass. He's playing with him and much to his annoyance, it's actually working.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Armie steps out of the shower, reaching out for a towel to wrap around his waist. He stops in front of the fogged mirror, running a hand through it to clean it out, revealing his reflection. He stares at himself for a moment, running a hand through his blond hair, pushing back some of the longer strands.

He reaches for his jeans and quickly puts them on, throwing the towel down on the basket, before heading out of the bathroom. His eyes wander around the bedroom, spotting Timothée on the balcony and smiles softly, contemplating the serenity in his face. He heads over to the bed, going through some of the clean clothes in his backpack and puts on a t-shirt, before joining Timothée.

He stands right beside him, arms leaned against the safety rail as they stare down at the street. It´s almost two in the afternoon, and while the Inn seems to grow quieter, the streets only seem to get more agitated. He takes a deep breath, looks over at Timothée from the corner of his eyes for a brief moment, averting his eyes when Timothée seems to notice his stare.

"Wanna say something, Hammer?"

"No, not really."

"Then why you staring at me?"

"Can´t I?"

"You can," he says with a shrug. "I´d just like to know why."

"No particular reason, I just want to."

Armie keeps his eyes on Timothée for a minute more, noticing the gentle blush that takes over his cheeks, which makes him smirk. He turns his attention back to the streets, appreciating the view around them, while slowly moving closer to Timothée, their arms now touching.

He would be stupid to deny the sudden shiver that rushes through his spine at the simple touch, memories of their last night in Boston filling his head. Their proximity, the ease way which they seem to interact and how good it feels to be around him; he no longer denies the attraction he has for him, but it´s pretty clear things are reaching a whole new level.

"What are the plans for today?"

"Huh?" Armie asks, snapping out of his thoughts. "What did you say?"

"What are the plans for today? Or all you had planned out was that fucking hiking that left my legs burning?"

Armie chuckles. "You´re weak, Chalamet."

"I´m not weak, Hammer, I´m just not as built as you are."

"All I take from that is that you´ve been checking me out."

"What?" Timothée says in a rather squeaky voice, shaking his head. "I´ve not been checking you out, but you do often parade around shirtless, so you can´t really blame me."

"Nah, I still think you´ve been checking me out," he mocks as Timothée rolls his eyes. "I´m starting to think you didn´t accidentally walk in on me naked."

Armie smiles amused, the look on Timothée´s face a sight to behold. He licks his lips, taking in a deep breath as he slowly leans closer to Timothée, feeling the heat in his body increasing while his heart beats faster with each second.

He stops for a moment, eyes wandering from Timothée´s lips to his eyes, trying to read his expression. Armie raises a hand, his fingers tucking a stray curl behind his ear, smiling as he notices Timothée close his eyes and lean closer to his touch. As their noses brush together, lips about to touch, there´s a loud knock on the door, which causes them both to immediately take a step back, eyes wandering to the door.

Timothée clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair as he swiftly walks over to the door, opening it to find the front desk woman standing there, a wide smile on her lips.

"Hi, I have great news for you," she says clapping her hands together. "We managed to get a new room for you, Sir."

Armie watches as Timothée looks over his shoulder at him, biting his lip before he turns back to the woman, nodding his head.

"That´s great, thank you."


	11. Breaking My Typical Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to play

_ If you simply pretend it never happened, then there won´t be room for an awkward situation _ , is what Timothée told himself over and over again as he moved to his new room, just a couple of doors away from Armie´s. They almost kissed, that is true, but he knew it was possible to simply erase that from their minds and just move on with their lives. Acknowledging the moment they shared would only make things weird, and since they were able to keep the night in Providence out of any conversations they had ever since, Timothée is pretty damn sure they can manage to do it again.

The only problem is that as he walks beside Armie down the streets of Bangor, he can´t help but steal quick glances at him, his mind swirling in different thoughts and possibilities as he pays close attention to him, the way he walks, his hands and even how the slightly longer strands of his hair start to fall down the sides. He hates this situation, it makes him feel vulnerable and exposed, two things Timothée certainly has been doing his best not to be.

He sighs, tucking his hands inside his pockets as he looks around the streets, a small smile on the corner of his lips as he notices an old couple sitting on the porch, drinking iced tea and talking. He hears the clicking of the camera and turns around, just as Armie puts the camera down, his eyes also stuck on the elderly couple. 

"Quite a cute sight, huh?"

"They remind me of my grandparents, but it´s also an image I´d like to have of my parents in a couple of years."

Timothée immediately understands the slightly different tone in Armie´s voice when he mentions his parents, aware that he isn´t sure if he will ever get to see an image like this due to his mother´s illness. He smiles gently at him, his hand aching to touch him, sooth him, but he keeps himself away.

As Armie stops, he does the same, cocking an eyebrow in confusion, before taking a quick look around the place, trying to pick on whatever has caught Armie´s attention.

"What?

"Can I?" He asks while lifting up his camera and gesturing towards the bright orange door just a few feet away from them.

"You mean a photo of me?"

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"Because I think it would look cool."

"It´s a cool door anyway," he protests as Armie chuckles.

"Yeah, you´re absolutely right about that, but I think the composition would be a lot better if there was someone there. So since you´re here at my disposal, I thought you´d like to help me."

"At your disposal?"

"Please?"

Timothée sighs while rolling his eyes, but walks over to the door anyway, biting his lip as he stands in front of it, unsure of what to do. He looks over at Armie, who´s working on the camera, then notices a couple of curious eyes aimed at them and feels his cheeks blush.

"What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Just stand there," Armie assures him as Timothée frowns. "What?"

"Just stand here? No pose or anything?"

"No, it´s not necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"You being there is enough."

The words come out followed by a smile and tender eyes, which honestly takes Timothée off balance. He can barely look Armie in the eye right now, his whole body reacting to every little word he says and looks he gives. He hates this situation more and more each passing second and he is pretty damn sure he needs a drink to help him cool down.

"A-are you sure?"

"Trust the photographer, alright?"

Timothée simply nods, leaning back against the wall and trying his best not to face the camera, although it´s almost impossible. He stands there a bit awkwardly at first, not sure where to put his hands or where to look, but slowly he starts moving around a bit, tamed poses as Armie takes steps closer to him, taking photo after photo.

"Is that enough?," he asks while scratching his neck, earning a reassuring smile and a nod from Armie.

"Yes, it´s enough. Thank you for the help."

"No problem," he shrugs. "I´m here at your disposal."

Armie smirks, shaking his head as they return to their walk. They are closer than before, their arms brushing against one another at some point, which promptly causes Timothée to take one step to the side.

"Can I see them?"

"Sure," Armie points over to a bench by the square and they walk to it in silence. They sit side by side and Armie immediately hands the camera to Timothée, displaying the photos he took on the screen. "I think you´re gonna like them."

"Did you like them?"

"Yeah."

Timothée nods, turning his attention to the photos, which he carefully admires, zooming in some of them to see the details better. Once he finishes them all, stopping by the photo of the elderly couple, he takes a deep breath, his eyes slowly turning to Armie.

"I have to say, Hammer, I´m quite happy with the fact I was wrong about you." Armie frowns and Timothée smiles gently, handing the camera back to him. "You´re more than just an Instagram photographer, using every single filter known to men and attracting followers because of your looks. You´re talented and actually a really nice human being."

"Wow, you just admitted to being wrong while simultaneously saying good things about me. You must have a fever or something, do you want me to take you to the hospital? Or maybe..."

"Stop it," he laughs while hitting his chest. "I´m serious."

"I know and I can only thank you for actually giving me a chance to show you who I really am. Although, I´ll only be sure you mean all of this when I read the article you´re gonna write."

"Don´t you trust my word, Hammer? I´m a lot of things, but I´m not a liar."

"Good to know," Armie winks.

Silence takes them over for a moment, but Timothée´s eyes remain attentive to their surroundings, swiftly spotting a bakery shop not far from them. He smiles and pushes himself up, turning to look at Armie, who´s staring at him slightly confused.

"Wanna go get some coffee and maybe a pie? I´m kind of hungry."

"It feels like you´re always hungry."

"I mostly am."

"And where does all that food go?"

"Oh, that´s a secret.

"Let me guess, if you told you then you´d have to kill me?"

"You´re smart, Hammer, I like that."

Armie scoffs and Timothée laughs, turning on his heels and heading down the square. He steals a quick glance over his shoulder, watching Armie run over to catch up with him and smiles to himself.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walks over to the bed, going through his backpack in search of some clean clothes. Being on the road is awesome and he's happy with all the places he's had the privilege of visiting, but the whole clothing issue can be a pain in the ass. He fishes for some classic black skinny jeans and patterned t-shirt, throws it on and then reaches for his yellow jacket on the hanger, placing it down on the bed so he won't forget.

As he looks around for his boots, he hears the phone go off and groans under his breath, eyes scanning the room in search of the device. He spots it by the drawer and rushes to it, seeing Chris's name on the screen. He accepts the FaceTime call, watching as Chris' face fills up the screen while he walks over to the balcony.

"Oh, so you're alive. Zoe and I were starting to get worried, you know? It's been almost three days since you texted us or posted anything on your Instagram."

"I was enjoying the trip," Timothée says while walking over to the balcony, standing by the door and taking in the breeze that comes from the night. "Besides, there might have been a little hangover issue, which kept me away from my phone for an entire day."

"Having so much fun with your new guy that you're getting drunk left and right?"

"Armie is not my guy and he had absolutely nothing to do with me getting drunk, okay? That's all on my asshole of a father, but that shouldn't be a surprise to you, right?"

"Not after all these years," Chris says cocking his eyebrows. "What about our hot photographer? How things going between the two of you?"

Timothée sighs, his eyes wandering down to the street for a moment, before he turns his attention back to Chris, who patiently waits for him to say something. He swallows dryly, finding it difficult to talk about this even with his best friend, someone who already knows most -if not all- of his secrets and fears.

"C'mon, Tim, you know you can talk to me."

"I know that, Chris, but you also know it's not easy for me to do this kind of stuff."

"After all these years, it shouldn't be that difficult talking to me, Tim. Don't you realise how damaging this is to you? You can't talk to your best friend, who you're gonna talk to?"

Timothée bites his lip and slides down the wall, sitting on the ground. He stares at Chris for a minute or two, then takes a deep breath, nodding his head, a movement that's clearly more to himself than to his friend.

"I'm attracted to him, alright? Is that what you want to hear?"

"I want to hear whatever you have to say, alright?"

"Well, I'm attracted to him, that's the problem here."

"Except that's not a problem, Tim. You're both single, grown men, allowed to be with whoever you want to be. Why are you so scared of anything happening?"

"This is a work trip, Chris. He's the subject of my job, I need to keep things professional between us and if I dare to allow anything to happen, it will only be downhill from then on."

"Why are you so pessimistic? Can't you see this might life trying to give you a chance to change things, Tim?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said were scared because when you're around him you talk about yourself without even noticing, he makes you feel so comfortable that you simply spill out everything. Take advantage of that, Tim, allow yourself to be truly open with someone and you might surprise yourself."

"Or I might end up hurt again."

"What was the last time someone truly hurt you, Tim? Because as far as I can remember, you haven't let anyone in enough to cause you any pain when they leave. Do yourself a favor, stop fighting this attraction, allow yourself to be close to him like you know you want to."

"I just don't want to..."

"Pain is part of life, Timothée, you can't live without it."

Timothée bites his lip, blinking a couple of times as he tries to keep himself together. He turns to the side as he hears a knock on the door, followed by Armie's thundering voice.

"You ready Chalamet?"

"Just a minute," he shouts while getting up, trying to put on a smile for Chris. "We're going out for a couple of drinks, so I need to head off."

"Have fun and try not to think too much about anything for once, you deserve it."

"I'll do my best," Timothée says before ending the call and locking his phone, placing it on the back pocket of his black jeans. He quickly puts on his boots, grabs his jacket and wallet and rushes out of the bedroom, locking it behind him.

He looks down the hallway, seeing Armie leaned against the wall by the stairs and bites his lip. Just like him, he's in all black, which highlights his eyes in a magnificent way and the ever growing stubble on his jaw is close to becoming a proper beard. He stares at him for a second, then takes a deep breath and walks in his direction, shaky hands as he approaches Armie. After the conversation he just had with Chris, it feels weird facing him and he's scared he might end up hinting away just how uncomfortable he truly is.

"Ready to go?," Armie asks with a small smile, pushing himself off of the wall.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Are you alright?"

"Huh?"

Armie frowns, stopping by the steps and looking over at Timothée.

"Are you alright? You seem rather quiet."

"Yeah, I'm alright. I was just talking to Chris and it was kind of a deep conversation, so it got me a bit..."

"Overwhelmed?"

"You could say so," he nearly whispers, trying his best to put on a smile. "Anyway, it's nothing to worry about, so let's just go. I'm really in the mood for some drinks tonight."

"Just remember I won't be dragging your ass around town tonight."

"I'll remember that, Hammer, don't worry."

**  
  
  
  
  
**

* * *

A couple shots of Tequila and soon enough Timothée found himself feeling a lot less uncomfortable, actually being able to laugh and enjoy the night with Armie, who as usual had a wide smile on his face and attracted the attention of most men and women in the pub. He has to admit, seeing the attention he gets is slightly off putting, mostly because it sparkles a hint of jealousy deep inside of him that he has no idea of what to do with.

So he puts on his best poker face, takes a shot and chooses to make the best of the situation he is in. He mocks Armie whenever he sees a guy approach him, nearly fucking him with their eyes, sending him drinks and notes on napkins. He makes kissing sounds whenever a woman walks past their table, gently touching his shoulder in anticipation of some sort of affectionate reply. Timothée has to admit, not even on his best night outs, he had as many guys after him, although he can't really complain of his conquests.

But the one thing that truly astonishes him is the fact no matter who tries, Armie remains seated there, drinking with him, focusing all his attention on him. Whenever he stops to think about this, the hint of jealousy gives space to cockiness and he can't help but wonder if Armie is just as attracted to him as he is to him.

"Here you go," the bartender says while setting the tray down, placing six shots of Tequila in front of each one of them. "Have fun, guys."

"Jesus Christ, Hammer, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"You said you were in the mood for some drinks, I'm just helping you out."

Timothée chuckles, but reaches for one of the shots, stopping as Armie leans forward and grabs his hand, putting the drink down.

"What now?"

"I propose we do a little game," Armie smirks as Timothée cocks an eyebrow. "We get a shot every time that guy over the bar gets rejected by someone."

"That's just mean, Hammer," Timothée says while stealing a quick glance at the guy. "Not to mention he has been rejected about ten times in the forty minutes we've been here, we'll get wasted way too fast if we do this."

Armie laughs, nodding his head. He goes silent for a moment, frowning as he seems to think of some other game they can do, only to smile as he finally has an idea.

"Okay, so we ask each other questions and whenever we don't want to answer it, we have to take a shot. Does that sound good to you?"

"That sounds like I'm gonna get stupidly drunk way too quickly."

"Not if you actually talk," Armie shrugs, earning a glare from Timothée. "So?"

"Fine, but I start."

"Be my guess."

"Have you ever slept with one of your friends?"

"Define friends."

"You know exactly who I mean, Hammer."

Armie smirks, shrugging his shoulders.

"Not, I have never slept with any of them, they are too straight for that. Although, I will admit I kind of had a crush on Taylor when we first met."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"Not that much, actually. We met while I was in college, I had a bit of a crush on him, but I knew right away he was straight. Besides, we developed a friendship quite early, so I didn't even think much of that. It was enough for Lee to tease me about it until this day."

"So they know?"

"Yeah, they know."

"That's a fun conversation to have with your friends," Timothée chuckles.

"Okay, enough about me. Ready for your question?"

"Not really, but shoot it."

"I'll start with something small," Armie assures him. "Have you ever slept with Chris?"

"Yep. First week of college, right after we met. We even tried to go out for like a week or two, but it was pretty clear it wouldn't work."

"Why?"

"They say opposites attract, but I don't buy it. Chris and I are great as friends, but we were way too different to be a couple, it would never work and we both knew it."

"See? You didn't need to drink."

"That was just the first question."

Armie laughs, nodding his head.

"Okay, my turn. Do you have any sexual fantasies?"

"Oh, we're going there, huh?"

Armie asks slightly surprised by the question, but with a hint of amusement in his voice. Timothée seems to be getting bolder and it might be an effect of their almost kiss earlier the day, or it might be the drinks. Either way, he likes seeing him letting himself loose a bit.

"You can drink if you want to."

"Okay, I'm gonna be a hundred percent honest here. I'm not sure if I can consider it a sexual fantasy, but I do have some interest in the art of shibari and how it can be used during sex."

Timothée can't help but blush a little and he praises all known Gods for the dim lights in the pub. He shifts slightly on his seat, his whole body heating up as he imagines Armie, a dark room, satin sheets and ropes.  _ You better change the subject if you don't want to get a boner in the middle of this pub, dude _ .

"I left you speechless," Armie says while leaning back on his seat. "Didn't think that was possible."

"I'm just…trying to process the information," he admits as Armie chuckles. "I wasn't expecting that, to be honest."

"What were you expecting?"

"The typical threesome dream."

"I'm not that basic."

Timothée laughs and shakes his head, although he can't push away the image of a semi naked Armie entering a room with a large rope in his hands.

"Okay, my turn again."

"I'm really scared now."

"You set the bar high, Chalamet."

"Yeah, I notice that now."

Armie smiles at him, leans against the table and makes sure their eyes are locked on one another's before he even opens his mouth.

"What's the deal behind your journal?"

"What?"

"That journal of yours, the one I mistakenly read and you nearly ripped my head off because of it. What's up with it?"

Timothée sighs, reaches for one of the glasses and brings it to his lips, stopping just before he can actually sip the drink. He bites his lip, looks from the drink to Armie and suddenly he can almost hear Chris' voice deep inside his head.  _ At least try _ .

"I always wanted to be a novelist," he admits, feeling his mouth dry out. "I've been trying to write something for years now, but it's all crap."

"What I read was pretty damn good."

"No, it wasn't."

"Trust me, it was good."

"Okay, moving on."

Armie scoffs, shaking his head. "You can't talk about yourself for more than two minutes, can you?"

"I've answered the question, Hammer, that's what matters." Armie nods and Timothée frowns, trying to come up with a new question. "If you could have sex with anyone tonight, who would it be?"

"It's all about sex with you, huh?"

"I've drank enough already, I don't want to tire myself by asking meaningful questions."

"Okay," he says in between chuckles, before turning serious, his eyes wandering from Timothée to all the glasses in between them.

He could say a random name, even a celebrity of some sorts, bluff his way through the game, but he has a name engraved in his brain and he's scared if he opens his mouth, it might just slip it through. He reaches for one of the shots, drinks it quickly and places the glass back down on the table, letting out a loud sigh as the liquid burns down his throat.

"Are you serious? This was an easy question to answer, Hammer."

"We all have our secrets, Chalamet."

"Fine."

"Ready or not, here it goes. What happened between you and your dad?"

Timothée swallows, his eyes wide as he stares at Armie. While he kept trying to keep the conversation from getting way too serious, Armie clearly had in mind taking the opportunity to get more out of him. He didn't blame him, but he also felt slightly betrayed by him.

He reaches for the glass, drinks it all and then allows his eyes to wander back to Armie, a serious look on his face. "Time to end this game, don't you think?"

Armie simply nods. He wants to know more about Timothée, figure out what could have possibly caused him to be so closed up, but he also doesn't want to pressure him or make him feel uncomfortable.

"Wanna see who can finish the five shots first?"

"Alright," he nods, aware Armie is also trying to change the focus of the conversation. "In three?"

"One, two, three..."

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

The weather in Bangor was a lot more intense than anyone could have expected, the temperature increasing more and more with each passing hour, becoming almost unbearable. Maybe for this exact reason, the streets remain mostly quiet, people secluding themselves inside their air conditioned houses or inside the pubs scattered around the streets, which are packed with people.

After over four hours inside, drinking a lot more than either of them had expected and sharing a rather large portion of spicy chicken wings, Armie and Timothée made it out of the pub. Since neither one of them was keen on going back to the Inn, they decided to take a stroll around the quiet and dark streets, rejoicing on the very small, but cool breeze that would hit from time to time.

Armie has his eyes attentive to every single thing that passes him by, specially the beautiful architecture of the old houses, that seem to bring a different kind of life to town. Suddenly he feels like three days in Bangor might not be enough for him to fully enjoy the town as he wishes he could, but then that is what happens in nearly every single stop of his road trips.

They turn on a corner, coming face to face with a large building and Armie immediately stops, his eyes wandering to the plaque in front of it. A frown forms on his face, but it's soon misplaced by a smug look, the face of someone who has all the wrong ideas in mind.

"Why did you stop?"

"We reached our destination," he says while taking a quick glance at Timothée, who looks at him rather confused.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You feel like going for a swim?"

"Excuse me?"

"Welcome to Bangor's Aquatic and Health Lifestyle Centre," Armie wiggles his brows, chuckling as he notices Timothée remains just as confused as before. "Feel like crashing it?"

"You're joking, right?"

"Of course...not."

"We can't simply crash in here, Hammer."

"We can if we don't get caught, which we won't."

Armie winks, then walks over to the main gate, eyes roaming around the area in search of cameras or some sort of visible alarm system. He finds a few dumpsters by the side, places them against the wall and climbs on it, turning to look back at Timothée, his hand stand out for him.

"You coming?"

Timothée simply stares at him for a few seconds, his face quite impassive. He bites his lip, eyes locked on Armie as he sighs and grabs his hand, climbing onto the dumpsters too.

"I'll jump first, alright?"

"You better."

He chuckles, sets a foot on the wall and then uses his arms to propel himself up and jump over the wall, landing perfectly on the other side. He dusts off his hands on his jeans, looks up and signals for Timothée to jump.

"That doesn't seem very safe."

"I honestly thought you were braver than this, Chalamet."

"Fuck off," Timothée groans. "This just seems like a lot of trouble for nothing."

"Well, do whatever you want."

Armie turns on his heels, about to walk towards the main buildings as he hears Timothée's voice echo in the night. He stops, smirks and turns to look over his shoulder.

"Wait for me."

Armie stands in place, watching as Timothée jumps across the wall and lands on the grass, stumbling a bit to the side before he stabilizes himself.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" Armie mocks before walking to the main building, trying to open one of the glass doors. He sighs as he notices it's locked and moves to the next one, but gets the exact same result.

He hears a little click and turns to the side, cocking an eyebrow as he sees Timothée kneeled down on the floor, a pin in his hand as he tries to open the door. He walks back to him, an impressive expression taking him over as the door opens and Timothée looks up at him with a smirk.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?"

"You've got skills, Chalamet."

"I was born and raised in New York, with a mother who barely allowed me near a stove without supervision. I had to learn some things on my own, including how to sneak out to hang out with my friends."

"I'm really impressed."

Timothée simply shrugs, pushing the door open and signaling for Armie to walk in, which he does with a smile on his face. His eyes scan the place for a swift moment, then he quickly takes his phone and wallet out of his pockets and places them down on a long wooden bench. His t-shirt is removed seconds later, followed by his jeans and much to Timothée's surprise, his boxers too.

"What the...," Timothée trails off, eyes traveling through Armie's naked back. He takes a deep breath, equal parts of him wishing he would just stay still but also turn around and allow him to stare at his full beauty.

"I don't wanna get my clothes wet," Armie replies nonchalantly, a little grin on his face before he runs over to the nearest pool and jumps in.

He gives it a few strokes, his body cooling down in contact with the cold water. He comes back to the surface, fingers running through his hair as he spots Timothée, who's leaned against the wall, silently watching him.

"You're just gonna stand there? C'mon in."

"I don't..."

"You know you want to, Chalamet, just dive in."

Timothée bites his lip, tapping his foot on the ground for a moment before quickly removing his clothes. His fingers hook on the waistband of his boxers and he hesitates taking them off, but in a moment of what he can only describe as pure insanity, he takes them off and throws them with the rest of their clothes.

Inside the pool, Armie watches in complete silence as a naked Timothée slowly walks closer to him. He tries his best not to stare too much, make the situation somehow awkward, but he simply can't help himself. Timothée has been clouding his dreams for days, now he stands right in front of him, fully naked. This is a lot more than Armie could have expected.

When he finally dives in, Armie takes a few steps back, giving him more room to swim around. By the time he makes it back to surface, Armie is only a couple of inches away from him and they can't help but stare at one another. Even in the cold water, the heat that emanates from them is easy to notice and only if they were complete idiots they wouldn't realize that their attraction for one another is already at higher levels than anyone could have predicted.

"Told you it would be fun," Armie manages to finally say, taking one step closer to Timothée.

Timothée takes a deep breath, his body tensing up as he notices Armie getting closer and closer. When they are about to touch though, he gasps, feeling water splash all over him.

"You fucking asshole," he screams as Armie laughs and swims away from him as fast as possible.

Timothée simply watches him, his fine ass in display as he gives powerful strokes, swimming back and forth repeatedly. They remain there for almost an entire hour, swimming, floating and occasionally splashing one another, causing loud laughs to echo all around the place.

By the time they cross the wall back to the street, it's nearly four in the morning and they make their way back to the Inn mostly in silence. They steal quick glances at each other from time to time though, mostly whenever their arms seem to brush against one another, which is usually followed by some small talk to keep things cool.

Once inside the Inn, they slowly walk up the stairs, trying their very best not to disturb any of the other guests. Armie's eyes wander to Timothée, his heart pounding on his chest as they approach his door. He takes a deep breath, looking at the door before turning back to Timothée, who looks up at him with a small smile on his lips.

"Good..."

Before he can finish, Armie takes a hold of his arm and pulls him closer, their bodies pressed together as he slides a hand down his cheek, fingers tangled on his curls. He smiles when he notices Timothée lean in to his touch, eyes closing slowly as he tilts his head back slightly.  _ He wants this just as much as you _ , he thinks to himself before closing the gap between them, his lips joining Timothée's in a slow and tender kiss.

He smiles through the kiss, his tongue exploring Timothée's mouth the moment he parts his lips and gives him full access. His lips feel soft, his taste is undeniably the best one Armie has ever tasted and in seconds he is drugged on him, craving for more when he isn't even finished.

Timothée pulls away slowly, blinking a couple of times as he stares up at Armie, cheeks flushed and lips shiny. He tries to speak, but words seem to fail him at the moment, all he can do is feel and fuck, there's a lot he's feeling. He rests his hands on Armie's shoulders, squeezing it gently before he leans on his tiptoes and pulls him closer again, kissing him with all his will.

Armie wraps his arms around his waist, keeping his warm body pressed against his, while their lips dance together like in the most beautiful waltz. His hands slide up his body, cradling his face and strokes his cheeks as he pulls away slowly, staring down at him with a wide smile.

Timothée keeps his eyes closed for a moment more, a lazy but content smile spreading across his face. He takes a step back, hand sliding down Armie's arm until they are hand to hand.

"Good night, Hammer."

Armie smirks, watching as Timothée keeps the wide smile on his face as he turns on his heels and walks down the hallway towards his bedroom.

"Good night, Chalamet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand it happened....  
> See you all in two weeks, in the meantime, why don´t you guys tell me what you think it might happen now ;)


	12. Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What you make me feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m back!!! I got back from vacation and I wasn´t going to post this so quickly, but since we´re in very difficult times, I guess a bit of distraction would be a nice gift. Hope you enjoy it, I missed you all :)

The door closes, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway while inside the bedroom, Armie leans against it, a lazy but proud smile forming on his lips. His cheeks are still flushed, his heart is still racing like it´s about to burst out of his chest and his whole body feels like it´s on fire, riding wave after wave of pure excitement.

Kissing Timothée was the complete opposite of what he had expected. During the nights, when Timothée was all he could think about or when he spent minutes staring at his sleeping face, Armie imagined a hungry and desperate kiss. But in fact, it all turned out to be a lot more tender and emotional, which didn´t change at all the fact they were both clearly very much into it.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, pushes himself off of the door and heads to the bathroom, his clothes falling to the ground in the process. The cold water hits his back and he moans gently, a sigh escaping him as his body starts to calm down and his muscles unwind. The taste of Timothée remains on his lips though, just like the memory of feeling his warm skin against his, the soft touch of his hand against his neck. Armie feels like he´s trapped in that moment, reliving the kiss over and over again, and to be completely honest, he doesn´t care if he stays there forever.

He lets the water run down his body, his hand slowly traveling down his chest to his stomach, a tingling sensation starting to build as he imagines it´s actually Timothée´s hand exploring his wet body. By the time he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it is already hard, begging for some attention. He strokes himself lazily, slightly annoyed that he would ruin such a tender moment by jerking off, but the simple memory of Timothée´s lips against his ignites a fire he simply can´t control.

Armie moans under his breath, his head leaned against the tiled wall as he slowly increases his pace, precum starts to ooze from his sensitive head. Without even giving much thought, Timothée´s name leaves his lips and as his legs start to buckle up, Armie feels an orgasm creek up on him. It comes slowly, the first spurts of cum barely going past his hand, but as he keeps on stroking himself, he watches rope after rope of white semen coat the floor and be dragged to the drain along with the water.

He sighs, closes his eyes again and then allows the water to wash away the remains of his cum. He turns off the shower, wraps a towel around his waist and walks back to the bedroom, a part of him wishing he would open the door to find Timothée there. Sadly, the bedroom remains empty and after drying himself off, all there's left to do is throw himself in bed and wait for sleep to catch him.

If the previous nights were already filled with dreams of Timothée, Armie can´t even imagine what this one will be like.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée closes the bedroom door, his shaky hands lingering on the door handle for a good minute before he can actually take a step back and turn around, eyes roaming around the empty bedroom. His heart is pounding inside his chest and on his lips he can still taste Armie, which leaves him aching for more.

He stumbles across the bedroom, sits down on the edge of the bed and stares into space, his mind running wild as he recalls the events of the night. The way they would look at one another at the bar, the teasing way which Armie would sometimes talk to him, swimming completely naked and then that little fraction of a moment before their kiss.

Five seconds, that´s probably how long it took from the moment Armie pulled him closer, to the moment their lips touched. But to Timothée it felt like an eternity, in which he considered all the possible scenarios for them. They could kiss and realize there was absolutely no chemistry there; they could end up in bed and having a one night stand that they probably wouldn´t ever talk about again; or much to Timothée´s desperation, they could realize that kiss was only the beginning of something much greater.

He sighs, buries his face in his hands and tries his best to let other thoughts consume him, but it´s all effortless. He craves for Armie more than ever now, he wants to feel his hands against his skin, kiss every single corner of that body and hear his name leave his lips in a sweet melody of moans.

Flushed and quite frankly, horny as hell, Timothée pushes himself up and heads to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face before he brushes his teeth and changes into an old shirt. He slides under the sheets, eyes stuck on the ceiling as his hand slowly travels down his body and inside his boxers.

As he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it swiftly and hectically, he gently tilts his head back while in his mind, he wonders if Armie could be doing the exact same thing, which seems to excite him even more. He thrusts his hips forward, sweat running down his forehead as he gasps for air, little moans echoing here and there. He arches his back, his toes curling as an orgasm hits him and he cums all over his hand.

He sighs, reaches out for something to clean himself with and then simply lies there on the bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling as he replays the kiss over and over again in his head. He isn´t really sure of what is gonna happen from now on, but no matter what it does, he knows those minutes on the corridor will be engraved in his mind for the rest of his life. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Armie steps out of the shower, his naked body dripping with water as he reaches for a towel to dry himself off. There's a lazy and uncontrollable smile on his face, one he can't seem to get rid of, which to be fair is not something he wants to. He spent at least two whole hours lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the kiss, the soft touch of Timothée's lips against his and how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit together.

When he felt Timothée's skin brush against his palm, his wet curls tangled on his fingers, Armie felt like electric shocks were running through his entire body. Suddenly it became obvious that this was more than just a simple attraction, Armie had deeper feelings being nurtured inside of him, feelings he had no issue in acknowledging, although he knew things wouldn't be as easy on Timothée's side.

He stares at himself in the mirror for a brief second, runs his fingers through his hair and steps out of the bathroom, walking straight to the bed, where he has left some clean clothes. He quickly puts them on, dries off his hair and heads over to the balcony, watching as kids run around the street and taking in the cool summer breeze that blows from time to time.

Three days before the trip, Armie actually considered cancelling everything and rushing over to his parents, help his father take care of his mother. And even if a part of him still wishes he would have done that, a big part of him is happy he not only didn't cancel, but that he had the idea to call Timothée. His grumpiness, his constant eye rolling and even his little snarky remarks had made the trip a lot better than Armie could have expected.

He looks over his shoulder as his phone starts ringing and rushes back inside, throwing himself on the bed as he reaches for it on the nightstand and hits accept. Lee's unmistakable voice comes followed by Archie's barking, which instantly makes Armie smile. He misses his furry friend and can't wait to be back with him.

"Are you purposely avoiding us?"

"Hello to you too, Lee. How's everything going over there?"

"Don't change the subject, you little prick, why you keep ignoring our calls?"

"I'm not ignoring your calls," Armie rolls his eyes, fixing the pillows under his head. "I'm just busy for most of the time and when I'm not, there's a good chance that I am slightly drunk."

"I see you're fully enjoying this trip, huh?"

"You could say so," Armie replies. "We've visited some interesting places and..."

"Are you really gonna lie to me and pretend this excitement is about the places you've visited?"

"What?"

Armie can hear Lee groaning on the other side of the line, which makes him chuckle.

"You must think I'm stupid," he finally says. "You and that curly haired dude got the hots for one another, the only question I got is, have you guys hooked up yet or you're still testing the waters?"

"Why you so sure we got the hots for one another?," Armie asks, before adding. "And you know I hate this phrase, so just say attraction or whatever."

"I saw the video you did of him while in Boston, the one you posted on your stories and I know you long enough to know when you're interested in someone, Armie. So answer me, have you two slept together already or what?"

"No, we have not slept together."

"Well, it's truly only a..."

"But we did kiss last night."

"Oh, I knew it."

"Shut up."

Lee laughs and Archie's barking seems to get closer. Suddenly all Armie wants is to grab his dog in his hands and stroke his fur as they lie down on the couch.

"You're so predictable, Armie. Taylor and I even put a bet on how long it would take for you to get in bed with the guy."

"Well, that's just very disrespectful," he complains as Lee chuckles. "What are the odds here?"

"I said a week, Taylor said two days before getting back, so do me a favor and just solve everything by tonight."

"Yeah, because my sex life revolves around you getting some easy money."

"Easy? This is Taylor we're talking about, Armie."

Armie chuckles. "Anyway, how are things going over there? Besides you two doing bets over my sex life?"

"Boring. Got quite a lot of work to do, Taylor is working on a possible merge with a big tech company and your dog seems pretty chill. Have you talked to your parents?"

"Yeah, I talked to my mom yesterday morning."

"She seemed pretty good the day I went to see them, even cooked me lunch."

"How I wish every day was like that for her, Lee. I just can't stand the fact she sometimes feels so weak, she can barely make it out of the bed."

"I know," Lee says, a rather sad tone to his voice. "But you have to keep in mind she is a fighter and she will get through this."

"Even the best fighters lose battles, Lee."

There's a brief moment of silence and Armie regrets bringing such sad thoughts to his mind. He was feeling so good just a few minutes ago, why ruin it with negativity?

"Hey, she is going to be alright, trust me."

"Sorry, but sometimes it's a bit difficult to keep myself optimistic."

"Okay, this is our cue. Go out and explore the town with your new boyfriend, you deserve it."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Yet," he adds as Armie laughs. "See? I mentioned him and you're feeling better already."

"Fuck off, Lee."

"You know I'm right."

"Okay, I woke up late and haven't eaten anything yet, so I have to go now. Call me if anything happens, I'll let you know if anyone actually wins the bet."

Before Lee can even think of answering, Armie hangs up the phone and tosses it back on the nightstand while he gets up. He grabs his wallet, places it on his back pocket and walks out of the bedroom, his eyes swiftly finding Timothée, who's exiting his own room just a couple doors down from his.

They stare at one another for a second, before Timothée walks towards him, hands in his pockets and bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, his cheeks slightly flushed. He looks so goddamn gorgeous, Armie could easily grab him by the waist and just kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

"Hey," Timothée practically whispers.

"Hi," he replies, a wide smile on his face as he closes the gap between them. As he leans down, desperate to kiss him again, Armie watches as Timothée takes a step to the side, his hand brushing against his arm. His eyes wander from his hand to his face, a frown forming. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Timothée nods. "Do you wanna go for lunch? I'm starving."

Armie simply nods, watching as Timothée turns on his heels and heads down the hallway. As he follows him, Armie knows there's something bothering Timothée and a part of him knows whatever it is, was triggered by their kiss.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It doesn't take much more than ten minutes for Timothée to be fully done with his lunch, pushing the plate to the side as he rests his elbows on the table and takes a few sips of his juice. His eyes wander around the restaurant, his feet tapping uncontrollably on the wooden floor as he does his absolute best to avoid the stares of Armie.

He is aware that this might not be the best way to deal with things, specially since they are going to be stuck in a car together by the end of the day, but Timothée simply can't control himself. He doesn't know how to deal with the situation in any other way, so he tries his best to ignore everything. That kiss, or better yet kisses, touched him in bigger ways than he could have expected, igniting something inside of him he clearly didn't know how to deal with.

His feelings for Armie were more than just a simple attraction, but there was no way he would admit to that or allow that to take him over. He was there to do his job, not get caught in his feelings, which usually only ended in disaster.

"You know," Armie finally says, breaking the unbearably awkward silence that had surrounded them. "It would be a lot easier if you just talked to me instead of pretending I'm not here, or that nothing happened yesterday night."

Timothée finally finds the courage to look Armie in the eye, although staring at him causes every single bone in his body to turn into jelly. If he wasn't sitting, he probably would have had to hold himself up. His eyes showcase so many emotions, allowing Timothée deep into his soul, which scares him more than anything. It's hard to imagine the last time he met someone so open as Armie, so willing to talk, understand and share. He wasn't at all prepared for this.

"Maybe that's what we should do."

"What?"

"We should just pretend it never happened."

Armie simply stares at him for a moment before pushing his plate to the side, leaning his arms on the table so he can lean closer to him, his blue eyes suddenly a lot darker.

"Forget what exactly, Timothée? The actual kiss we shared yesterday night, or every single moment that's happened ever since this trip started?"

"I don't..."

"You want me to make a list of everything? Or you think you can recall all of them?" As Timothée remains silent, Armie cocks an eyebrow. "I'm sure the only thing that might have actually slipped your mind is the fact you nearly kissed me while wasted in Boston, but apart from that, only if you were a fool you'd say it was nothing important and you are far from being a fool."

Timothée sighs, burying his face in his hands for a second, before looking back at Armie. "Armie, I'm doing what's best for both of us, alright? Acknowledging that kiss, or whatever else might have happened, it will only bring awkwardness to this trip and we don't need that. It was a silly little moment, we can go on from here without making it a big deal."

"A silly little moment? Like when you were jealous that I had slept with another guy?"

"I wasn't..."

"You know what? Forget it," Armie pushes himself up, throwing the napkin down on the table along with a couple dollars. "Enjoy the rest of your lunch and I'll go do my job. But don't you worry, I'll pretend absolutely nothing happened the last seven days, we might as well be back to that coffee shop table in Brooklyn."

"Armie, please, I didn't..."

"You got what you wanted, you should be happy."

"Armie," he repeats while watching Armie walk away from him. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, feeling a couple of tears swell in his eyes. He hates himself for feeling so much, but most importantly, he hates Armie from bringing all these feelings he had so well hidden, to the surface.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Silence. That's what Timothée should have gone with, it would be better for everyone involved and it sure wouldn't leave him feeling like a complete asshole. After lunch, Armie stopped by the Inn, grabbed his equipment and left straight away, not even giving him the chance to ask if he should follow him, although he already knew the answer to that question.

He had hurt Armie in the process of keeping himself protected, which to be fair didn't really seem to be working. He cared too much about the guy and that was starting to mess up with him and every rule he had for himself. Truth is, Timothée doesn't know how to act around Armie, mainly because what his brain and his heart says are on very different spectrums. He's used to using his brain, but sometimes it seems it would be a lot easier to just follow his emotions.

He picks up his phone, scrolls through the apps and opens his facetime, calling Chris right away. It takes him a couple of seconds, but eventually he picks it up, a wide smile on his face. He's soon joined by Zoe, waving at Timothée from behind Chris shoulder.

"Hey, Tim!!! I thought you had forgotten about us."

"Is impossible to forget you, Zoe."

"That's nice to hear." He chuckles, shaking his head as she steals the phone from Chris. "How's everything going over there?"

"It has it's ups and downs, but overall it´s been a great trip."

"Aren't you glad I forced you to accept this?"

Timothée smiles, but deep inside he's wondering how easier his life would be right now if he had stayed in New York, far away from Armie and his beautiful smile.

"Let's have this conversation once the article is finished and you approve it."

"As if I have ever turned down any of your work, Tim. You're the best one around here and you know it."

"Thanks," he says.

"Look, I was about to leave, but call me when you got the chance, I wanna know how things are going."

"I'll do that."

"Have fun, love."

"You too," he waves at her, keeping the smile plastered on his face until Chris is all he sees and the sound of the door closing can be heard.

"Okay, what happened? You were nervous last night, but today you're on a whole other level and I'm worried."

"We kissed."

"What?"

"Armie and I, we kissed." He sighs, leaning his head back on the bedpost as Chris remains in silence. "After I talked to you last night, we went out for a couple of drinks, had quite a good conversation, shared a couple of laughs, then we crashed the public pool, went for a swim and once we were back in the Inn, we kissed."

Chris nods, his eyes taking in Timothée's expression. "Why are you so distressed by this, Tim? You admitted to being attracted to him, so I don't really see why you would be so nervous."

"Because this morning, when we saw each other again, he clearly went for another kiss and I walked away from him. And when he tried to talk about the subject, I just told him to forget it even happened and he..."

"What did he do?"

"He threw it in my face how the actual kiss was just one of the many little moments we had since this trip started. Including something I didn't really remember, which was the fact that I tried to kiss him in Boston."

"You don't remember trying to kiss him?"

"I was wasted, he helped me get back to the apartment we were staying in, I barely remember anything from that night."

Chris nods, letting out a sigh. "I assume things are a bit awkward between you two since this morning?"

"I wish things were awkward, but he has been ignoring me ever since. He spent most of the day out and didn't wait for me, so I stayed here, just going through everything I said and done."

"Fuck, Timothée, I hate when you force me to be all serious." Timothée manages to chuckle, shaking his head. "Do you like this guy?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then why are you sabotaging yourself?"

"We are completely different people, Chris, this will never work."

"Timothée, he didn't ask you to marry him, he simply kissed you. No one is saying you two have to have a long relationship, doesn't mean you can't try it out and see where it goes. I get a part of you might be scared, but you can't suppress your feelings for the rest of your life."

Timothée simply stares at the screen, his head spinning with all the thoughts he has inside of him. The simple idea of opening himself up, allowing someone like Armie to come in, makes him shiver from head to toe and sadly, the good kind of shivers.

"Maybe you should take a nap, try to clean your head and once you wake up, things might be clearer."

"I doubt it."

"Well, you gotta try something."

Timothée nods, says his goodbyes and turns off the call, tossing the phone back on the nightstand. He looks at the clock there, bites on his lip and pushes himself up, heading out of the bedroom and over to Armie's room. He knocks on the door a couple of times, waits for some kind of answer, but sighs as he doesn't get any.

He looks around, heads down the hallway and down the stairs. He smiles softly at the lady at the reception, trying his best to sound normal as he speaks.

"Hi, have you heard from my friend Armie? He's staying in room 14."

"Oh, Mr. Hammer left a couple of hours ago. He wondered if I had any tips for...," she sighs, putting on a shy smile. "Well, he wondered if I knew any good gay bars around the area."

"Of course," Timothée mumbles.

"If you want I can make sure he knows you were looking for him."

Timothée shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips. "There's no need for that, but thank you very much."

As she nods, Timothée turns on his heels and heads back upstairs, straight to his bedroom. He throws himself on the bed, eyes stuck on the ceiling as he lets out a heavy sigh. He really did screw up, but how can he simply go against everything he believes to be right for him?

  
  
  


* * *

Armie didn't want to feel this way, he didn't want to be annoyed by something like this, but as much as he had tried, he simply couldn't control himself. He could understand Timothée's side, he had been hurt before, so he decided suppressing his feelings would be the best for him, after all it would keep him from suffering.

But how long can someone suppress their own feelings without slowly killing a part of themselves? Timothée was young, talented, intelligent and attractive, Armie would hate to see him lose himself because he couldn't open up to the good things around him. And while he would love to do something about it, Armie was also aware he couldn't force Timothée to do anything. If he wanted to forget about their kiss, and every moment they shared, he would have to deal with it.

With a sigh, Armie checks his phone for the time and gets up from the bench he's been sitting on for the past hour, walking down the two blocks to the Inn. He stops by the front door, takes a deep breath and then walks in, smiling softly at the lady behind the front desk.

"Good night, Mr. Hammer."

"Good night," he says before rushing up the stairs, heading straight to his bedroom. He closes the door, leans his forehead against it and closes his eyes for a second, before he finally turns around, stopping immediately. "What are you doing here?"

Timothée looks up from his hands, his serious eyes locked on Armie, who watches him confused.

"I wanted to talk to you and apologize for what happened."

"Apologize to what exactly? For the things you said or for kissing me in the first place?"

Timothée sighs, shaking his head as Armie remains exactly where he is, not really sure of what to do or even what to say. He wants to give Timothée all the time he needs, but he also wants to kiss him and make sure he understands not everything has to end badly.

"I shouldn't have acted that way with you, alright? It was wrong of me, I'm aware of that, but I was scared, Armie."

"Scared of me?"

"Scared of myself," he says while getting up, his green eyes never leaving his as he slowly makes his way over.

Once he stops, they are just a few inches away from one another and Armie has to control every instinct that says to reach out and take Timothée in his arms. He takes a deep breath, silently watching as Timothée leans on his tiptoes, slides a hand through his neck and pulls him down closer.

"I was scared of what you make me feel," Timothée admits before pressing their lips together, kissing him slowly.


	13. Just Like A Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new beginning.

"I was scared of what you make me feel," Timothée admits before pressing their lips together, kissing him softly.

Armie doesn't waste any second, cradling Timothée's face and kissing him deeply, savoring the taste he craved for most of the day. He stumbles back, his body pressed against the door as he feels Timothée's hands slide down his sides and grip onto his shirt. Against all his will, he pulls away, blue eyes gazing down at Timothée, who gasps for air.

"Stop," he manages to whisper, trying to step away from him, although his entire body aches for him to take him in his arms and kiss him until he can barely breathe. "Don't do this if you're gonna end up regretting later on."

"I'll regret if I don't do it," Timothée whispers back, his hands resting on Armie's hard chest. "Please, just, just kiss me."

The look in Timothée's eyes is enough to wash away any reservations Armie could possibly have. He slides his arm around his waist, brings him closer and locks their lips together once more, devouring Timothée in a heated and famished kiss. The soft touch of his lips, the heath that emanates from his body, Armie can barely hold himself together. He aches for his touch, to hear the sound of his moans fill the air while their bodies come together as one.

Timothée wraps his arms around Armie's neck, his fingers playing with the short hairs on his nape as their lips move together in a frenetic dance. He feels a fire building up in the pit of his stomach, his legs trembling and his heart beating faster. It only takes him seconds to completely lose himself in Armie, like he is some kind of drug, which has been taunting him from day one and has now finally got him to surrender.

Suddenly, Timothée wishes he would have surrendered earlier.

As a moan escapes Timothée's lips and echoes in the bedroom, Armie turns them around and presses him against the wall, gazing down at him for a moment before attaching his lips down on his neck, sucking and biting on the tender skin. His hands sneak inside his shirt, his palm feeling his warm and smooth skin, loving the shivers that he seems to produce all over his body.

He smirks as Timothée's hands slide down his back, reaching for his ass, which he squeezes softly while moaning his name against his ear. If he has ever heard anything more erotic than this, Armie honestly can't remember. He cradles Timothée's face, pulls on his bottom lip and strokes his flushed cheeks, unable to control the smile that appears on his face when he stares down at such a beautiful face.

Armie takes a step back, removes his own shirt and lets it fall to the ground, watching as Timothée does the exact same seconds later. They stand still, eyes locked on one another, saying a lot more than words would ever be able to do.

Suddenly, Timothée pushes Armie back and walks away from him, turning on his heels once he reaches the bed. The mischievous smile Armie had grown used to, now had a new meaning, a new implication to their relationship.

Timothée unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs along with his boxers, his naked body in full view of Armie, who doesn't waste any time and walks over to him. He lies down on the bed, crawls back to the pillows and smiles when Armie follows him, his hands sliding up and down his bare legs, his lips planting wet kisses on his skin.

Armie's eyes remain on Timothée through the whole thing, watching as his curls fall down his sweaty forehead, how his lips quiver when he kisses around his thigh or the way he's gripping onto the sheets whenever Armie teases to touch his cock. To watch someone so full of himself suddenly lose his cool, moan in desperation and whimper for more is nearly enough to get Armie to shoot his load. Of course he doesn't though, he has better plans for the night.

He grabs Timothée by the waist, pulls him closer to his body and lets their lips lock together once more, savoring his taste while his hands slowly explore more of his slender body. His smooth skin feels amazing against his chest hair, the way he giggles and moans when his beard tickles his neck is like the sweetest melody and at that moment Armie is sure he could stay like that forever. Just the two of them, tangled on one another.

Timothée arches his back as Armie slides down his body, his beard tickling every corner of his skin and his tongue swirling around his perky nipples. He grabs onto his hair, tilts his head back and closes his eyes, surrendering himself to the waves of pleasure that wash him over. His moans grow louder when Armie starts teasing his cock, his tongue tracing the slit as his finger runs up and down the shaft, making it throb.

"Fuck," he mumbles as Armie finally takes his cock inside his warm mouth, taking inch after inch. He looks down and the sight is the most incredible thing he had ever seen; the way Armie's lips stretch out around his cock, the flush of his cheeks and his intense blue eyes locked on him, cause goosebumps to fill up his skin.

Armie works on Timothée's cock for a while, letting it slide out of his mouth with a pop. He licks his lips, his hands holding tight onto his thighs as he places gentle kisses all over his balls and then raises his ass higher, his tongue probing the tight hole. A gasp escapes Timothée and Armie doesn't even give him time to think much about it, he dives head first, swirling his tongue around the rim.

His moans grow louder, his grip on his hair is suddenly a lot tighter and as the seconds pass them by, Timothée gently forces Armie's head down further. Armie gives him control, allowing Timothée to administrate the rhythm, loving to hear the sweet whimpers that he produces. Is only when he can barely contain himself any longer that Armie pulls away and kneels down on the bed, taking off his pants and boxers, throwing them to the side.

Timothée stares down at him, his mind in a state of euphoria. He reaches out for Armie's hand, brings him closer and kisses him deeply, their hard cocks rubbing together. He holds onto his shoulders, his heels pushing against Armie's buttcheeks and keeping him closer. He wants to feel every single bit of him against him, memorize in his brain every part of Armie's body and what drives him crazy.

"Fuck me," he whispers against Armie's ear, smirking as he hears him moan.

Armie gazes down at Timothée, pecks his lips and reaches out for a condom on the nightstand, ripping the package open as fast as he possibly can before rolling it onto his cock. He grunts as Timothée reaches in between them, stroking his cock a couple of times before guiding it towards his hole, pressing just the tip in.

Slowly, Armie pushes more and more inside, his face buried in the crook of his neck as he finally pushes it all in. He stops for a second, allowing both of them to get used to the new sensation and then gradually starts moving his hips back and forth, leaving just the tip before shoving it all back inside, causing Timothée to arch his back and scratch his nails though his back, leaving marks Armie will gladly wear for days.

It's only a matter of seconds until their bodies pick up a rhythm, moving together in perfect harmony as their moans become one big symphony. Timothée grips tight onto Armie, allows his fingers to knot on his golden chest hair; meanwhile, Armie jerks him off to the rhythm of his thrusts, their orgasms building up together.

With each second that passes, every shiver that runs through his spine and every moan Armie drags out of him, Timothée realizes just how good sex can be once you have actually developed some sort of intimacy with your partner. And while he can't really complain about most of his sexual encounters, it's evident that no one has ever made him feel the way Armie did.

He moans against his ear, cradles his face and forces him to face him, kissing him deeply just as he feels his toes curl up and a tingling sensation fill him over. He gasps, grips tightly onto Armie's hair and nods slowly when his blue eyes gaze down at him with a questioning look.

Armie slows down the pace of his thrusts, his breathing labored as he strokes Timothée faster, smiling as he watches him roll his eyes and throw his head back, his name leaving his lips one last time as his cock erupts in his hand and cums coats their stomachs. As Timothée pants, trying to recover his breathing, Armie grunts, giving one final thrust before filling on the condom.

Timothée chuckles as Armie sighs and falls on top of him, his softening cock slowly slipping out, which strangely leaves him feeling empty, incomplete. He strokes his sides, plants a couple of kisses down his shoulder blades and smiles when he leans on his elbows and stares down at him.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

Timothée wakes up to the soft and warm touch of Armie's skin pressed against his, his beard gently tickling his forehead while his hand has found its place on his golden chest hair. He takes in his scent first, a timid smile on the corner of his lips as the smell takes him back to the previous night. It would be difficult to find anything that would make him feel better than he did hours ago, with Armie's body on top of his, having his hand travel down his naked body and his sweet voice chanting his name.

He snuggles closer, his lips planting kisses on Armie's chest while his hand slides down his torso and stops by his hip bones. He feels his hand move on his back, pressing him even closer and lifting his chin, his lips planting a sweet kiss on his. As he finally allows himself to open his eyes, Timothée is met with the beautiful sight of a still sleepy Armie, who stares down at him with kind eyes and a gentle smile.

Timothée stares at him for a good moment, his mind running wild as he recalls everything that has happened the last week. How could one man suddenly turn his whole world upside down? Leave him unable to think straight and questioning every single thing he has ever decided for himself? This wasn't what he was used to and it fucking scared him, but God forbid him to walk away from a man like Armie without even trying.

"You're not gonna runaway, are you?"

He shakes his head, a little playful pout on his lips.

"I don't like running naked."

"Idiot," Armie mumbles while wrapping his arms around him, pulling him on top of him as their lips meet halfway, in a sweet and tender kiss.

He grips onto his waist, a tamed moan escaping him when Armie runs his fingers through his curls and tugs on them gently. Armie is tall, strong and manly, but there's a softness to him that makes him even more intriguing and sexy. He truly does seem like a man from a different planet and Timothée can't wait to explore every single inch of his body and mind.

He pulls away slowly, licking his lips as he drags his hands up and down Armie's sides, his eyes locked on his. He smiles, a little giggle escaping him when Armie pulls him back down and kisses his neck and jaw, his large hands slowly sliding down his back and under the sheets, squeezing his ass.

"Perv," he whispers with a chuckle, eyes closed as he moans softly. He's barely awake and yet, he's two seconds away from mounting Armie and riding him until they're both breathless and spent.

He gasps, digs his nails on Armie's shoulders and grinds their bodies together, smirking as he hears his name echo. He looks down, turning Armie's face to his and kisses him deeply, their tongues deliciously moving against one another.

"W-we should...," Armie sighs, cradling Timothée's face and pulling on his lip. "We should get up."

"Or we can just stay here for a little bit more."

"Our reservation is running out," he manages to say in between kisses. "And we need to head to the next city."

Timothée sighs, leaning his elbows on Armie's chest, chuckling when he groans. He stares down at him for a while, then nods and rolls back to the bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling.

"You're not gonna get ready?," Armie questions while getting up from the bed, catching Timothée's attention.

"I think I'm gonna lie here for a bit more and just take a quick nap," he winks, biting his lip as his eyes wander up and down Armie's naked body. "Besides, the view from here is extremely pleasant."

"Well, this pretty ass is heading to the shower, so maybe you'd like to join me instead of just lying there waiting?"

Timothée frowns, a mischievous smile taking over his face soon afterwards as he jumps up on the bed, sheets falling to the side as he runs over to the edge and throws himself on top of Armie, who wraps his arms around his waist. He holds tight onto his shoulders, stealing quick kisses from him as they stumble around the bedroom and inside the bathroom.

He gasps as the cold water hits their bodies, his hands grabbing onto Armie's hair as he tilts his head back. He feels Armie's large hand run down his body, squeezing his ass cheeks as his lips travel down his shoulder. The cold water does nothing to cool down the heat that takes over his body, Armie's touch electric and addicting.

**  
  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Armie leans back on his seat, an amused smile on his lips as he stares at Timothée, who devours a burger with the ferocity of a lion. He chuckles, shakes his head and leans forward, handing him a napkin, which he gladly takes in his hands. He maintains his gaze on him, silently engraving in his mind every little movement Timothée makes, the way his brows raise from time to time and how he licks his lips after each bite.

He plays with his fork, a warm feeling building up inside of him as he watches Timothée. It's absolutely insane how enamored by him Armie is, how he craves for his touch even more now that he had a taste. When he pitched the idea for this trip, Armie didn't expect to find himself feeling this way about someone only one week after. His whole body pleaded for Timothée, his mind could only produce thoughts about him and there was no denying that this was him falling in love. Not that he would dare to imply that any time soon, after all, knowing Timothée, he would probably get on the first bus back to New York and leave him behind if he did.

"You know," Timothée finally says, cleaning the corner of his lips with a napkin. "I know I'm hot and all, but do you really plan on staring at me the whole time?"

"Oh, you think that's what this is about?"

"Well yeah, what else could it be?"

Armie smirks, leaning closer to Timothée, his fingers gently brushing against his arm.

"Mind you, I was just a bit shocked at the ferocity you're eating that burger."

"You see, I had quite a work out the last couple of hours, I need to regain some energy."

"Too bad I plan on putting you through yet another work out soon enough," there's a smug grin on his face as he says this, his blue eyes staring straight into Timothée's green ones.

"I'm not opposed to that, actually."

"Nice to hear it."

"However," Timothée adds while leaning back on his chair. "I would like to visit our new destination first. Think you can control yourself for a few hours?"

"It will be a challenge," he shrugs. "But I can make an effort for you."

Timothée laughs, shaking his head. He's feeling so much lighter and relaxed, it's insane how much weight has been lifted off of his shoulders since the previous night.

"But seriously now, where are we headed to?"

Armie rolls his eyes. "Have you even peeked at the email I sent you with the itinerary?"

"I did!"

"No, you didn't."

"I did. Mostly because it was the same email you agree to my ground rules," he chuckles as Armie shakes his head. "But I do admit, I didn't really pay much attention to it."

"I put so much work on it," Armie says with a pout, earning a little chuckle from Timothée, who leans closer and strokes his cheek. "But I guess not everyone appreciates it."

"Oh please, cut the crap."

"And he keeps on hurting me," he mumbles.

"Oh my God, are you always this dramatic?"

"Look who's talking."

"I'm in no way dramatic, Hammer."

"Oh no? So putting that whole show yesterday just to end up kissing me again wasn't dramatic?"

"That's nothing to do with being dramatic," he protests. "Is about being..."

"Being?"

"Too caught up on my own thoughts and I'm pretty sure you've noticed that by now."

"Oh, I did," he sighs. "And I already know is gonna be a struggle to keep up with you."

"Again, stop the fucking drama."

Armie sticks his tongue out, shaking his head slightly as Timothée chuckles. He smiles, eyes wandering around the diner before he focuses back on Timothée.

"You ready to go? I don't want us to get to Portland too late."

"That's like a two hour drive ride, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I guess we might not have enough time to do some sightseeing then."

"Because now you're interested in the city?"

Timothée shrugs, leaning forward on the desk. "I'm interested in the city, but now that I think about, there´s a lot of fun stuff we can do while on the road for two hours."

Armie frowns, a little smirk plastered on his face. "Are you trying to imply what I think you are?"

"Maybe," he shrugs.

"You're gonna be a lot of trouble to me, aren't you?"

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Timothée has his feet upon the dash, his green eyes attentive to the road that passes them by. It´s been over two hours since they hit the road, driving back down to Portland and enjoying the cool breeze of a rather nebulous day. There´s music playing low, serving only as some sort of background noise whenever they go quiet, savoring the new found information they share about one another.

Not that he is doing much of the talking, as much as he feels almost drawn to share aspects of his life with Armie, Timothée still feels scared to open up the way people would expect of him. And so he listens, he listens as Armie talks about his relationship with his father, the way they always seemed to talk about everything. He listens as Armie´s voice gets caught up in his throat when he mentions his mother and just how active she was until barely two years ago.

In between the easy smile and passionate conversation, Armie has his own demons and Timothée can´t help but feel closer to him by noticing them. Not that he enjoys knowing he has deep insecurities or that he constantly fears for his mother´s life, but after seeing Armie as the man with the perfect life, he feels relieved to know they have more in common than expected.

And to be entirely honest, Timothée is excited to know exactly how much in common they have. He´s eager to find out how far he can allow himself to go with Armie, because in some ways he feels a lot more free around him than he ever felt with anyone else in his entire life. None of the relationships he had, if he can even call those things relationships, made him feel this bubbly and excited; one night spent with Armie and Timothée suddenly felt a lot more inspired. 

Of course he wouldn´t be surprised if he woke up in a couple of days and an immense fear consumed him, he could easily see that happening, but Timothée was ready to at least try to keep himself optimistic about things. And more importantly, he was willing to try to give Armie -and himself- a chance to see what life could have in store for them.

He watches as Armie swerves to the right, cocks an eyebrow and turns to face him, the hand that was resting on his seat suddenly stroking his hair gently and catching his attention. He shoots him a questioning look, watching as a little and mischievous smile takes over his beautiful face and grows even more curious.

"Where are we going exactly?"

"We´re not staying in downtown Portland just yet, I want to stop by somewhere else first."

"And where is this place? Or are you gonna punish me for not reading your itinerary and won´t tell me anything?"

Armie chuckles. "Oh, so you admit that you didn´t read the itinerary?"

"I´ve told you already, I gave it a quick look, but didn´t pay attention to it. Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me where we´re going."

"How am I changing the subject? You´re the one who talked about the itinerary."

Timothée groans, ruffling Armie´s short hair as he rolls his eyes. "Fine, you want to be mysterious, you can be my guest."

Armie laughs, reaching over towards him and placing a quick kiss on his neck. Timothée shoves him back to his place, crossing his arms, but is unable to stop looking at Armie, who has an amused look upon his face.

"We´re visiting the Portland Head Light," he finally says as Timothée arches an eyebrow. "As you might have noticed by now, I´m kind of an Airbnb genius and managed to get us an amazing loft, near enough to the lighthouse. We´re gonna go straight to the lighthouse, do some sightseeing, take a couple of photos, then I thought we could eat something and head to the loft. Enjoy the rest of the night on our own."

Timothée smirks, turning on the seat so he can look at Armie better. "And when exactly did you plan all of this? Because until last night you could barely look me in the face."

"I had my reasons to be bothered, okay? You didn´t really make it an easy situation for me, so cut me some slack."

"I´m not blaming you, I know I´m not an easy person to deal with. I am, however, curious to know when did you plan all of this."

"After you fell asleep," he says with a shrug. "I was lucky enough someone canceled the rental of the loft last morning, so I even got a better price for it. And if the place is anything like the photos, we´re in for a treat."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, a little amusing smile on his lips. "As a photographer, you must have an eye for when people are clearly trying to oversell a place that´s not as good as it looks, right?"

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"If the person hired a good photographer for the job or not," he chuckles. "I am pretty sure I could make a common place look a lot nicer in photographs, but if the photographer is not good enough, he might end up revealing the truth."

"But you are good enough for a job like this."

"I think you´ve seen enough of my photos to know that yes, I am good enough for a job like this."

"Cocky," Timothée mocks while rolling his eyes.

"You seemed pretty attracted to my cockyness a couple of hours ago."

"Oh, please."

"Are you gonna dare to say I´m lying right now? Because if I remember correctly, you were about to take a nap, but changed your mind when saw this fine piece of ass in the nude."

Timothée chuckles, shaking his head.

"See?"

"I admit you got one fine piece of ass, but that doesn´t change the fact you´re getting cocky."

"We all must be cocky sometimes, don´t you think?"

Timothée shrugs, his fingers knotting on Armie´s hair as his eyes wander around the area. He can already smell the ocean and see the change in the vegetation, how the air seems different as they approach the beach.

He takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes for a brief second and when he opens them up again, he´s met with a beautiful blue sky and the rocks in the distance. A nice little beach begins a few feet away from them and he can´t help but smile; he will forever be grateful for accepting to come on this trip.

"Okay. Think you can handle a walk down the beach and over to the lighthouse?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Look, I know you´re not much of a nature guy, so I rather ask than have you sending me death glares throughout the whole thing."

"I don´t like camping, but I have nothing against nature, thank you very much."

"Does that mean yes?"

"Yes, I can handle it."

"Then let´s go."

He nods, hops off of the car and closes the door behind him, green eyes wandering around the area before he finds Armie standing a few inches away from him, a hand out for him to take. He bites his lip, slightly taken back by the sudden display of affection right in the open, but takes his hand anyway and allows him to guide him down the road.

He might not be used to it, but sometimes it´s nice to let others take charge.

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
**

The lighthouse stands tall in the distance, while the waves hit the shore with incredible force. The splashes of water hit Armie, who sits on the edge of the rocky cliff, his legs crossed and his blue eyes lost in the view in front of him. He feels calm, comforted and in peace. For a few minutes, he feels so small and insignificant amid all that nature and beauty, none of the problems that haunt him seem to matter.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, inhaling deeply and smiling as he breathes out the air. Places like this have the effect of recharging Armie, bring new energy to his life and more than once, places like this had helped him reevaluate his life and his choices. Not that he needs that right now, he feels pretty in peace with how things are going. He's taking full advantage of the places he's been to, captured some of his best material and if that wasn't enough, his new found relationship with Timothée was something he was extremely excited with.

Timothée challenges him more than anyone else ever has. He forces Armie to dig deeper into his soul, to read between every single line and, if he's lucky, he will eventually be able to predict something he will do or say. Timothée is like a flame, intense and mutable, which means Armie is constantly on the edge. But he likes the thrill and that feeling only seems to intensify as the days go by.

He sighs in contentment, eyes wandering around the place one more time before he grabs his camera and turns it on, capturing a couple more photos. The indescribable sensation of never being able to fully grasp the beauty of the real thing in a photograph suddenly taking him over. He smiles from the corner of his lips, pushes himself up and looks around, spotting Timothée near the museum.

He's in a all black, his hair blowing with the wind and a sheepish smile on his lips as he explores the area. Apart from the long walk, in which he made sure to complain for most of the time, he clearly loved the place just as much as Armie did. And to be fair, Armie doubted anyone could visit such place and not feel something deep within.

He raises his camera, aiming it at Timothée's direction and zooms closer, snapping a couple of photographs for his arsenal. Little by little, most of the time without Timothée even noticing, Armie developed quite an obsession with photographing him. The fact he looked stunning in basically every single one of the photos did help. He chuckles at himself, still slightly shocked at just how easily he finds himself falling for the guy, and walks over in his direction.

"Hey," Timothée says as Armie approaches. He is leaned against the museum wall by now, a finger tucking a couple of curls behind his ear. "You ready to go? Or you still want to..."

Armie stops him by sliding a hand down his waist and pulling him in, kissing him softly on the lips, until he feels his hands rest on his chest and his tongue dance along with his. He pulls away slowly, tip of his tongue running along Timothée's bottom lip before he takes a step back, a smirk forming on his lips as he looks down at Timothée, who remains with his eyes closed and open lips.

"W-what was that for?," he eventually manages to ask, blinking a couple of times.

"Just really felt like kissing you, that's all."

"Do you have this kind of rampant very often, Hammer?"

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Would that be a problem?"

"No," Timothée says while licking his lips. "Not at all."

Armie chuckles, hooks a finger on the belt loops of Timothée's black skinny jeans and gestures down the road. As they walk side by side, they remain mostly in silence, taking in the view and the quiet moment. Armie loves whenever he meets someone he can be in silence with, someone who doesn't need words to move him.

"Where are we headed to now?," Timothée asks while looking up at Armie once they reach the car, his cheeks slightly flushed from the walking.

"I thought we could just drive around the area for a bit, see if there's anything interesting to do near the place we're staying in."

"Oh yeah, I wanna know what you've managed to get this time."

"A beautiful little place on top of a restaurant."

"On top of a restaurant?"

Armie frowns while nodding. "Yeah, why?"

"I'm gonna eat like a mad man, aren't I?"

"Only if you want to." Armie winks, unlocks the car and hops in, waiting for Timothée to get comfortable to drive off.

He feels the wind hits his face, the cool breeze keeping his mood up and the gentle touch of Timothée's hand on his thigh, making it impossible for him to stop smiling. He looks over to the side, staring at Timothée for a brief moment and then turns back to the road, taking in a deep breath.

"I gotta say, stopping here was one of the best ideas you had. It felt really good to be in contact with nature this way, feel the wind on my face and hear the ocean."

Armie looks over at him again, nodding his head. "I'm glad you enjoyed. I've been dying to visit this place for years now, but it never worked."

"Have your friends ever come on one of these road trips with you?"

"Lee has come in three, but Taylor only managed to join us once. He really likes to keep an eye on his tech and doesn't really trust people in charge without him around for long, so he usually only goes on short trips."

"It seems like Taylor needs to step back a little bit and enjoy life a bit more."

"We tell him that quite often, but to be honest, I never seen him as happy as when he is sitting on his computer, building something new."

Timothée nods. "Well, I can understand that, actually."

"We are planning a major road trip on January though, maybe cross the country. He's already doing plans to make sure he can make it."

"Across the country? That sounds like a lot of time on the road."

"Oh, you're worried you're gonna miss me?"

Timothée rolls his eyes, slapping his arm as Armie laughs.

"Oh please, shut the fuck up."

"You're gonna miss me, just admit it."

"One day and you're acting like this, what have I got myself into it?"

Armie chuckles, leans closer to him and places a quick kiss on Timothée's lips, before turning his attention back on the road.

**  
  
  
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* * *

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**

"Enlighten me, please," Timothée says while closing the car door shut, his backpack hanging from one shoulder as he holds a couple of paper bags in his hands. "We're staying on top of a restaurant, so why the need to all this food?"

"Because I feel like cooking tonight," Armie says while taking the bags away from Timothée and gesturing up the side stairs. He follows him down the small parking space, heads up the stairs and leans against the rail as he watches Timothée fumble with the electronic keyboard, which grants them access to the apartment. "Besides, I thought it would be nice to stay in tonight, just the two of us."

As the door opens, Timothée looks over his shoulder, a slight smile on the corner of his lips. He blinks a couple of times, taking a step back so Armie can walk in and then closes the door behind him, eyes wandering around the small apartment.

"That sounds a lot like a date," he finally says as Armie looks over at him from the kitchen counter.

"Does that scare you in any way?"

Timothée shrugs. "A little bit, maybe."

Armie smiles, actually glad he didn't find some sort of excuses and just spoke the truth. He leans against the counter, hand on his hips and an intrigued look upon his face.

"And why would that be scary?"

"Because I'm not the date type of guy?" He shrugs once more, placing their bags down and heading over to Armie. He leans his hands on the marble counter, stretching himself out for a minute, before his eyes find Armie's. "Look, you've already noticed I'm full of shit, which is not something that´s just gonna disappear all of a sudden. I have my issues, I have my fears and while sometimes I can push them back, sometimes I just can't do anything about it."

"We're all like this, Chalamet," Armie assures him as Timothée sighs. "I'm just glad you're actually honest enough to tell me the truth. Besides, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable here, alright? What happened between us is still very fresh, we don't need to rush anything and I encourage us to talk about it as openly as possible."

Timothée remains silent for a moment, but eventually nods his head, a little smile coming to his face. Sure, his emotions are still all over the place, but it feels good to know Armie is someone understanding, who doesn't feel like pressuring him into anything.

"You want some help with the food?"

"I would love it, actually. Think you can chop some onions and garlic for me?"

"Excuse me?," he asks slightly annoyed. "Who do you think I am, Hammer? Of course I can chop some onions and garlic, I'm not a moron."

"I didn't say that," Armie chuckles. "But you've said yourself you're not exactly the cooking type."

"I won't do anything super special, but I can cook pretty much everything I love to eat," he slides in between Armie, bumping hips with him and reaching for the onions, washing them off before he finds a knife on one of the drawers. "My mom did keep me away from the kitchen as much as she could, but eventually I learned to do a couple of things here and there. By the time I went to college, I really worked hard on learning how to cook the things I loved."

He cleans his hands, cocking an eyebrow as Armie stands across from him on the counter, arms crossed and an amused look on his face.

"What?"

"Is nice to hear you talking," he admits. "Not policing every single word you say because you're scared you'll reveal too much."

Timothée bites his lip, scratching the back of his neck.

"No need to overthink it now, Timmy."

"Timmy? Wow, I haven't been called Timmy in a while."

"Good, I found myself my own nickname for you."

Timothée chuckles, shaking his head as Armie winks and pushes himself off of the counter, wandering around the kitchen. He sighs, watching him in silence as he thinks of everything he said the last couple of minutes. Not over thinking, allowing himself to talk and admit his fears. Maybe being around Armie might do him a lot more good than he expected.


	14. Stressed Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something precious and unique.

The lights are dimmed low on the apartment, while music comes from the small stereo close to the television. Sitting on the living floor, Timothée and Armie have their legs spread out, a bottle of vodka in between them as they talk. Well, as Armie talks and Timothée carefully pays attention not only to every single word he says, but the way his whole body moves as he's telling a story. The eagerness in his face, the sparkle in his eyes; he's a natural storyteller and clearly loves doing so.

"....but even though I had been traveling my entire life, I was still a sixteen year old boy, suddenly living on my own in London for six whole months."

"Was it scary for you?"

"I think the thought of it was a lot more scarier than the experience, as it usually is."

"Did you go on your own or were your parents with you for a while?"

"They flew to London with me, spent about four days there and then came back to the USA. My dad had technically retired by then, but he never truly stopped until we found out about my mom's illness, so he still had a lot to do around here."

"But in the end, it was a great experience for you, right?"

"I honestly think it was the smartest thing I did in my life," Armie nods. "I was able to learn quite a lot about myself while alone there, I was able to meet new people and explore more about myself. Not to mention, the professional experience I gained is something I take with me every single day. It wasn't easy, but it was exactly what I needed."

Timothée smiles, nodding his head slowly. He reaches for the bottle of vodka, takes a few sips of it and then hands it back to Armie, his eyes never leaving him.

"What you wanna ask?"

"Is it that oblivious I want to ask something?"

"Yes, it is. I can see the curiosity in your eyes."

"How exactly is your mom doing? I mean, how is the illness in her day to day life?"

Armie sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

"You don't have to..."

"Is okay," Armie assures him. "She goes through ups and downs, to be honest. There are days she is feeling good, you can't even tell she is sick. While sometimes she is really weak and needs help for basically everything she tries to do. Lee was with them two days ago and he said she was great, even cooked him lunch."

"How does your dad deal with all of this? Because I can't even imagine going through all of this and not letting it get the best of you."

"My dad is a very strong and centered man, he also has a great sense of humor, which I'm sure helps him deal with it all, but I know it's not easy at all for him. That's why sometimes I try to take him out of the house, tell him to go out while I take care of her. But they are both so fucking stubborn, you know? They never want me to stay there for long, which I get it, they want to protect me, but it can be a bit angering sometimes."

Timothée nods, his hand resting on Armie's shoulder. "My mom was always extremely protective, but I can understand her reasons. Parents want to do what they think it's best for us, even after we're grown up and can deal with things on our own. Don't let that get to you, they are only doing what they think it's right."

Armie nods, his hand gently resting on top of Timothée's. He sighs, reaches for the bottle once more and takes a couple of sips, a little smile coming to his lips.

"Okay, I think I'm done talking."

"And is there anything else you'd like to do?"

"Well, to be honest, I have many ideas in my head of things we could do, but I'm suddenly ashamed of saying them out loud."

Timothée smirks and slowly moves closer to Armie, his hand sliding down to his thighs. "You can whisper them to me."

Armie leans closer, his lips brushing against Timothée's ear gently, before he whispers something, a grin on his face as Timothée shivers.

Timothée turns to face Armie, licks his lips and gets on his knees, his eyes wandering through Armie's face as he slides a hand down his torso. He looks down at him, swings a leg over and straddles him, his fingertips swiftly finding their place on the bit of skin that he can see on Armie's shoulder. He leans down, smiling softly as Armie's hands hold tight onto his waist and keep his body pressed against his, the heat of them combined.

When he allows his lips to touch Armie's, is slow at first, savoring every little corner. He pulls away, chuckles as Armie stares at him in pure awe, then cradles his face and dives back in, kissing him passionately. His lips are smooth and taste like a sweet nectar, but there's also something about it that ignites such a fire inside of him, Timothée thinks whenever their lips touch he is about to burst into flames.

**  
  
  
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**  
  
  
  
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Timothée lies awake in bed, the tangled sheets doing very little to cover his -and Armie's- naked body. The moonlight comes in through the window above the bed, creating shapes all over Armie's back, which he gently traces it with his finger. Timothée can't really remember the last time he shared a bed with someone for the night, but being pressed against Armie's warm body, feeling his heartbeat and his breathing feels oddly good to him.

Maybe he missed this whole relationship thing a lot more than he expected, although he wasn't yet sure he was willing to go too deep into this. He wanted to test the waters, see how much he could take it without putting himself through pain in the end. He sighs, pushes some of his hair back and allows his eyes to wander down Armie's body, taking in every muscle, every bit of golden hair, his spine and even the small little holes formed just above his asscheeks. He is such a beautiful man.

He bites on his lip, lies back down on the bed and stares at the ceiling for a good minute, trying to collect his thoughts. The light that comes from his phone distracts him though and he swiftly sits down, reaching for it.

**_< chris>_ ** _ r u alright? _

_ should i be worried u disappeared?? _

_ and why hasnt mr photographer posted anything?? _

_ Duuuuuuuuuude _

Timothée chuckles, gets up from the bed and slowly makes his way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him as calmly as he possibly can. He drags his naked body down the small hallway while dialing Chris number, perfectly aware he will still be awake.

"Is rude to call people this late at night, you know?"

"I thought you were worried about me? But fine, I can hang up and we'll discuss this tomorrow."

"Don't you dare hang up on me," he whines as Timothée chuckles, grabbing a bottle of water in the fridge. "So? What happened with you and the photographer? Is there any way to deal with this whole situation or is over before it even started?"

"After I talked to you, I took some time to myself and got my thoughts back in order, or at least tried to. I then decided to talk to Armie and we..."

"And you?"

"We slept together," he nearly whispers, feeling kind of stupid when he notices the smile on his face. "We slept together and it was probably the best sex I ever had in my life, which is insane and scary as fuck. Bottom line, I can't stop thinking about him."

Chris chuckles. "I'm proud of you, my friend. You deserve to give yourself a chance, see where this could lead you."

"I'm really scared though. What if it all ends badly?"

"That's a possibility, Tim, but you can't keep running away from things just because you're scared of how they might end. Right now, you're so scared of hurting yourself, you're not even giving yourself the chance to try and be happy. So take my advice, relax and enjoy whatever you and that hot piece of ass have going on right now. Trust me, it will only do you good."

Timothée sighs, but nods his head. "I will do that."

"Good, now I have to go. A guy from Grindr just replied to me, I need to go check it out."

"Have fun," Timothée says before Chris turns off the call. He bites his lip, eyes distant as he tries to engrave his friends words inside his brain. He looks over his shoulder as he hears footsteps and smiles as Armie walks over to him, sleepy eyes while he scratches his neck.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep."

"Well, you could have woken me up, I'd help you out."

"You would help me?," he asks with a smirk. "And how exactly would you help me?"

Armie shrugs, his hands sliding to Timothée's shoulders, which he massages slowly. He leans forward, leaving a couple of kisses down his neck and on the back of his ear, the little soft moan that echoes bringing a smile to his sleepy face.

"I could sing you to sleep and give you a massage. Not to mention, I've been told I have quite the miraculous tongue," he whispers as Timothée cocks an eyebrow, looking at him over his shoulder. "We could put it to test, if you want to."

"You're starting something you might not be able to finish, Hammer," Timothée says with amusement, a little squeal escaping him as Armie turns him around and presses their naked bodies together. He bites his lips as his large hands slide down his back, squeezing softly on his buttcheek. "Stop teasing me."

"Come with me and I won't tease you anymore," he winks and stands his hand out for Timothée, who takes it immediately, following him back to the bedroom.

Their lips are connected the moment the door closes behind them and as they stumble around the room, Timothée slides his hands down Armie's body, feeling the muscles against his skin. He falls back on the bed with Armie on top of him, closes his eyes and allows himself to be worshipped by Armie's skillful mouth. His lips are soft against his skin, leaving a sweet wet trail as he snuggles himself in between his bent legs. When he finally feels his tongue around his hole, teasing his rim, Timothée arches his back and grabs tightly onto the sheets, through his parted lips the sound of a sweet moan echoing.

"Armie...."

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

"Now, that´s just stupid."

Armie cocks an eyebrow while he lowers the camera, his eyes meeting Timothée´s, who stands by the window, the sunlight coming in and creating a halo around his body, while in each side a different painting hangs from the wall.

"Why is this stupid?"

"We´re on a pretty cool museum, filled with great artists and yet you are making me pose for photos. That doesn´t make any sense, Hammer."

"You clearly don´t see what I see," he replies as Timothée shakes his head, unable to control a smile from forming on his lips. Armie smirks, raises the camera once again and quickly snaps another photograph, a sense of pride consuming him when he sees the result. "Seriously, you´re adding a lot of life to these photographs, so suck it up and let me do my job."

"What about my job?"

"I´m giving you so much to work with, Chalamet," Armie teases while walking towards him, a little cheeky smile on his lips. "More than this and I might have to write the article myself."

Timothée chuckles, a pensive look in his eyes. "That would be a great experiment, see if my readers can realize it´s not me actually writing a piece."

"I´m on board."

"I´m joking."

"I´m not," he winks before pecking Timothée´s lips and turning on his heels, a contentment sigh escaping him as he looks around the room. He gives a quick look over his shoulder, reaches out for Timothée and pulls him closer, leading him around the museum. "Have you started writing, by the way? I would love to take a look at what you got so far."

"I do have some bits written down, but I´m always changing them as the days go. There won´t be anything concrete until we´re back in New York and I can sit down on my desk to properly work on it."

Armie nods, a hand gently playing with Timothée´s curls. "That sounds fair, but you didn´t really answer me. Can I take a look at it or not?"

"Of course not," he answers while looking up at Armie.

"Ouch."

"Zoe is the only person who ever reads my work before it's published and I plan on keeping this tradition, so you might have to wait until the magazine is on your hands or you download our online version."

"Are you serious?"

"Totally serious."

"You´re so mean, Chalamet."

"So mean you can´t keep your hands off of me the entire day," he teases while turning around to face Armie, his green eyes teasing and inciting.

As Armie chuckles, nodding his head, Timothée walks past him and heads over to the wall across from him, stopping in front of one of Andy Warhol´s artwork. Armie stands in place, a little smile on the corner of his lips as his eyes remain on Timothée, paying close attention to every little gesture he makes and how his eyes seem to glow as he stares at the art across from him.

_ It´s slightly concerning how into this guy you are _ , he thinks to himself, biting his lip. He shakes his head, trying not to make it a big deal out of something so precious and unique he is feeling. It´s been so long since he felt something like this, he wants to enjoy it as much as he can.

"You alright?"

Timothée´s voice brings Armie back to reality and he blinks a couple of times before locking eyes with him. He nods his head, walking over to Timothée and stands next to him, his eyes wandering from Timothée to the painting.

"I saw an Andy Warhol exhibition when I was in London for my photography course. There was this kid who kept saying he couldn´t understand the hype about it, that it was just a soup can."

Timothée chuckles, nudging Armie slightly. "Well, he is not wrong."

"Oh, you´re not a fan of Warhol either?"

"Oh no, I am. But your friend is not completely wrong either, is he? It is just a soup can."

Armie frowns and Timothée laughs, pushing him to the side. "Is this what makes you lose interest in me? The fact I refute Warhol´s brilliance?"

"Oh, you don´t have to worry," he smirks, an arm sliding down Timothée´s waist and bringing him closer. He leans forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, smiling as he feels Timothée´s hands on his waist. "I won´t lose interest so easily."

"Huh, maybe I should change this article to something more like How To Lose A Man In Ten Days."

Armie laughs. "You´re impossible, Chalamet."

"I believe this is the reason why you find me interesting, or am I wrong?"

"No, not you´re not."

**  
  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
**

Timothée sits back against the chair, biting his lip as he tries his best to keep himself from laughing. While the man stands across from their table, talking his ass off about the next beer they will taste, Armie keeps whispering in his ear, making jokes and teasingly running his foot up his leg. He kicks him under the table, shoots him a glare, but nearly melts into a puddle when he simply smiles and bats his eyelashes, pretending nothing is happening.

_ How can you be this infatuated with this guy so fast? _ He asks himself, leaning his chin on his hands as he stares deeply into Armie´s eyes. His sense of humor, the way he carries himself, his eye for photography, everything seems to attract Timothée more and more to him, which is terribly scary, but also such a pleasant feeling. He laughs so much more around Armie, which as he stops to think about it, it´s something he has been missing in his life.

He can only hope whatever this thing with Armie is, will only bring laughter and joy to him.

In one last attempt to keep himself focused on what the man is saying, Timothée nudges Armie to the side and turns around on the chair, eyes focused on the man and the glass he holds in his hands. He explains the way the beer was brewed, how they achieve such color and the thickness of it, which to be honest seems like too much information for Timothée. All he truly wants is to drink more beer and just have a good time, he couldn´t care less about how they were made.

It´s actually quite ironic that Armie, who had the idea to go there in the first place, was the one paying less attention to the whole thing.

"Will you just shut up," he finally whispers while crossing his arms, leaning back on his stool.

"Admit it, you´re loving this."

"No, I actually think it´s quite annoying that you planned this whole thing and now won´t let me even pay attention to the thing."

"I have a feeling me whispering dirty things in your ear is a lot more entertaining than listening to this guy talk about beer, Chalamet."

He smirks, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

"C´mon, admit it."

"Stop it."

"Admit it."

"Gosh, you´re so annoying."

"That´s not what you were moaning last night."

Timothée blushes, closes his eyes for a moment and then looks at Armie, who has a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Are you always like this?"

"Maybe."

"What have I got myself into."

"You´ve got yourself into a fun and caring relationship."

He arches an eyebrow, the smile on his face suddenly disappearing as Armie sighs and shakes his head.

"No need to look at me like this, I wasn´t insinuating we have anything serious. It´s just a word, it doesn´t have to mean anything. We had a relationship before we slept together, now we have a slightly different one, it´s not like I'm proposing to you."

"Good, because no matter how incredible I am, that would be a little crazy."

"How incredible you are?" Timothée nods and Armie chuckles. "I never know what to expect from you, Timothée, but I absolutely love it."

"If it´s any consolation, I never know what to expect from you either, which is a little stressful."

"I stress you out?"

Timothée shrugs, before being interrupted by a waiter, who places two glasses in front of them. He thanks the guy, a gentle smile on his face as he reaches for the glass and stares down at it, his finger tracing the edge.

"It´s not a bad kind of stressful," he finally answers, stealing a quick glance at Armie. "It´s more like, I never know what you´re gonna say or do, which keeps me on the edge and always trying to figure out what sort of hints you´re laying out for me. You manage to...sort of...I feel like you have the power to unlock certain things in me without me even noticing and that´s kind of scary, but in a good way I suppose."

Armie frowns, his eyes locked on Timothée, who scratches the back of his neck, slightly nervous. He keeps himself quiet for a moment, trying to read his expression and let his words sink in, understanding exactly what he meant.

"You look like someone who just witnessed a murder and is in total shock," he nearly whispers, scratching his nose. "Was I that awkward? For fuck´s sake, that´s why I should just keep myself quiet about this things and..."

"No," Armie interrupts. "I´m just kind of surprised that you shared so much and I´m trying to wrap my head around it all. It´s nice knowing I have some kind of effect on you, something you can´t really control."

"You like having power over me?"

"More like, I like the fact that something in me has a power over something in you, but I know someone like you would never be controlled by anyone else but yourself."

"See? Is the way you talk and those sweet blue eyes that seem to hug you and tell you everything is gonna be alright," he groans, shaking his head. "I hate you, Hammer."

"I beg to differ."

Timothée rolls his eyes, shoves him back and grabs his beer, drinking it nearly all in one go as Armie laughs. He hates the fact he is right, he is far, far from hating him.

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Timothée runs a hand through his curls, his eyes roaming through this reflection on the mirror. There's a serene look on his face, the one of someone who has actually had quite a perfect day, filled with laughter and joy. Wandering through the streets of Portland with Armie, seeing his enthusiasm with everything around him, how he would take time to capture even the smallest detail, made him see -and appreciate- things in a different tone. Truth was, Timothée was learning a lot with Armie.

He hears his phone buzzing and looks around, reaching for it on the little shelf close to the mirror. He unlocks it, watching as Zoe's name light ups on the screen and clicks on it, opening the message, which instantly makes him chuckle as well as roll his eyes.

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** care telling me why i have to find out about the fact u and armie are a couple through chris???

**_< timothee>_ ** first things first

armie and i are not a couple

we are sleeping together

but its just that

nothing serious

....

....

also chris just cant keep his mouth shut

can he?

ffs

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** was i not supposed to know??

**_< timothee>_ ** tbh i wasnt sure how u would react

this was supposed to be a work trip

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** tim

i might be ur editor

but im also ur friend

i know u wouldnt jeopardized the work just for sex

**_< timothee>_ ** glad u trust me

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** besides

look at that man

i would do the same

XD

**_< timothee>_ ** trust me

im looking

a  _ lot _

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** enjoy for the both of us darling

**_< timothee>_ ** for the three then

cuz i bet chris would love to have a taste of that

**_< zoewithnoy>_ ** lucky u who got it first

Timothée laughs, shaking his head as he says goodnight to Zoe and then turns off the phone, keeping it in his hand as he exits the bathroom, leaning against the threshold as he looks over at Armie. He's sitting in bed, wearing only his underwear as he keeps his focus on the laptop that sits on his legs. His eyes wander through his features, the soft lines paired with strong features. The short dark blond hair and the shape of his lips. His long and thick eyelashes, which must leave quite a few women jealous.

He smiles when their eyes meet, the expression on Armie's face a slightly confused one, which makes him look even younger and cuter.

"Why you staring at me?"

"You should be happy that I'm here gawking at your beauty."

"I didn't say I wasn't happy," he winks as Timothée chuckles. "But maybe I wanted to hear it from you."

Timothée nods slowly, pushing himself off of the wall and walking towards the bed, sliding under the sheets. He leans his body closer to Armie's, his eyes wandering down to the laptop, which features over a dozen photos.

"What you doing? You've been staring at this laptop for almost an hour."

"I was going through a couple of photos, editing some things and deleting others."

"Can I see some of them?" He asks with hopeful eyes as Armie nods, handing him the laptop. "Really?"

"Yes, because unlike you, I don't have a problem with people seeing my work before it is finished."

Timothée shrugs. "Good for me then."

Armie laughs, shaking his head as he leans back on the bed, his arm instantly wrapped around Timothée's shoulders, pulling him even closer to his body.

Timothée looks through the thumbnails, cocking an eyebrow as he spots a couple of photos that have nothing to do with their trip. He clicks in one, watching as a red haired woman fills the screen and bites his lip. He doesn't even have to ask, he knows it's Scarlett, the friend Armie will occasionally sleep with.

"Look, this is not..."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Armie," Timothée says while stealing a quick glance at him. "The photos are stunning, she's a really gorgeous woman."

Armie nods slowly, clearly a bit uncomfortable with the situation.

"How did you two meet?"

"At University," he says. "We kept running into each other at bars and eventually hooked up."

"Do you often photograph her?"

"She has posed for me a couple of times, but this one belongs to a work she is doing with her sister about tattoos. The day before this, I was actually photographing her sister."

"Was her sister naked too?"

There's a little smirk on Timothée's face as he looks at Armie, who can't help but blush, despite trying his best to keep his coolness.

"No, her sister was not naked, but her photoshoot had a different context."

Timothée nods, his eyes wandering through Armie's face, reading his expression. He chuckles, placing the laptop on the bedside table and turning to face Armie, who remains quiet.

"Armie, you don't have to get all tense just because I asked you about Scarlett," he explains with a little smile. "We have this thing going on, but it's nothing serious, besides I've seen you hook up with other people during this trip."

"Right," he mumbles, nodding his head.

"I'm not really the jealous type anyway."

Armie arches an eyebrow, a little smirk appearing on his lips as Timothée looks at him confused.

"You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not joking."

"You made a scene after I slept with that guy while we were in Boston."

"I did not make a scene," he protests as Armie laughs. "I did not make a scene, Hammer. I was mad because you and that guy kept me from sleeping, that's all."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It's not bullshit."

"Yes, it is, just admit it."

"I don't know what you talking about," he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the bedpost and crossing his arms.

Armie chuckles and swiftly gets on his knees, swinging a leg over Timothée's body while he stares up at him, trying to keep himself from smiling. Armie stares down at him amused for a moment, then leans forward, his lips gently brushing on Timothée's jaw and then his neck. He feels Timothée squirm underneath him, his warm hands resting on his thighs and moves closer, properly sucking on his neck.

Timothée tilts his head to the side, closes his eyes and sinks his nails down on Armie's thighs, a tamed moan escaping through his clenched teeth. He feels his breathing slowly get shallower, his hand gently sliding up Armie's legs and over to his abs, which he takes his time exploring. When Armie's fingers knot on his hair and pulls it back, he gasps and swiftly opens his eyes, staring straight into Armie's. He smiles, parts his lips and leans forward, capturing Armie in a heated and passionate kiss.


	15. What Moves Us Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crazy moments are the ones we will remember when we're older.

_...but I think I have cracked the thing with Hammer, after almost ten days in his presence, it became easy to me that the reason why he attracts the sympathy of nearly everyone is because he listens. He doesn't care much -or at all- for social status, age or gender. During our days together, I saw Hammer sit down to talk to people his age, kids, elderly and disabled people, treating them all with equal respect and the same enthusiasm. He would listen to them talk about their lives, laugh at their jokes, make some of his own and then simply reach for his camera and snap a couple of photos, which all looked great since he had earned people's trust, whether it was with his soothing voice, his kind eyes or the loud laugh that he.... _

Almost as if on cue, Armie's laughter echoes in the park, which instantly attracts Timothée's attention, causing him to avert his eyes from the computer screen. He looks around the area for a quick second, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips when he finally spots Armie, who's standing in front of an elderly couple, his camera in his hands as he listens to the woman say something. A weird feeling seems to take him over as he watches him, something that starts right in the pit of his stomach and radiates throughout his body, a warm and fuzzy sensation, something that has been quite common over the last couple of days. Armie Hammer has messed with him in ways he can barely describe.

He turns his eyes back to the laptop, saves the file and closes the lid, stuffing the gadget back into his backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and takes one last look at Armie before wandering around the park, his eyes wandering through the whole area, smiling as a couple of kids run past him. He spots a vendor under a tree and walks over to it, ordering two iced teas. He thanks the woman, takes a few sips of it and then heads back to where he was previously, the couple who was serving as models for Armie, now saying their goodbyes to him.

He waits from afar, but waves at the couple as they walk away and then makes his way over to Armie, who has a wide smile on his lips and a look of contentment and fulfilment in his eyes. He hands him one of the cups, chuckling as Armie swiftly wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in for a kiss. Timothée sure ain't used to this much affection, kissing in public places -except for bars late at night- or even being held in more romantic ways, but he finds himself easing his way into this new phase of his life. He can't deny he's learning a bit more about himself while with Armie.

"You seem very happy with the results of this shooting," he finally says as Armie nods.

"I love photography as a whole, but photographing people has a different energy to it, which I absolutely love it."

"You get a hard on photographing people, huh?"

Armie laughs, shoving Timothée to the side as they walk around the park. "It doesn't get to that point, because I'm not a creep, but it gets me on a different high."

"I was just joking, I'm the only one giving you hard ons," he says with a smug look upon his face as Armie cocks an eyebrow. "Is that a lie?"

"You're so cocky, Chalamet."

Timothée shrugs, takes a sip of his tea and then looks back up at Armie. "What are the plans for the rest of the day?"

"I don't really have any."

"Of course not," he mumbles. "Then maybe we could go to Old Port, check out what the fuss is all about?"

"That sounds good to me, although I want to be back at the hotel early today, I need to do some editing."

"Why you rushing on the editing of the photos? Can't you do it at home?"

"I can and I will," he sighs. "But I also plan on spending a couple of days at my parents after we get back, so I might not focus on work for a while."

"You want to check on your mother for yourself," he smiles softly, a hand holding onto Armie's arm. "I'm sure she's alright and will love to see the photos you've taken on this trip."

Armie nods. "She always does."

"Well, she's your mother, she probably loves everything you do."

"She does, but why wouldn't she? I'm awesome."

"And I'm the cocky one," Timothée scoffs as Armie chuckles, stealing a quick kiss from him before taking his hand and leading him down a less crowded path. His eyes wander down the path, the trees coming together to form an arch above them, a picture perfect moment. "Where exactly are we going?"

Armie stops, his blue eyes down to Timothée. "That sweet couple told me down this path there's a little pond, which people like to go when they want some quiet time."

"A pond?" He asks as Armie nods. "I don't know, Hammer. I'm a very nice and decent young man, it doesn't seem right that I go to this place all alone with you."

A smirk immediately appears on Armie's face, in his eyes amusement as he watches Timothée put on an innocent face, even his voice a tone down.

"You don't have to worry, Chalamet, I'm not gonna corrupt you," he says before leaning closer to Timothée, his lips brushing against his ear. "Unless you want me to."

**  
  
  
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The Sun shines bright in the sky while the streets of Old Port are filled with people walking by. The stores are packed with locals and tourists, some buying everything they see in front of them, while others simply wander from building to building. Sandwiched between two other large brownstone buildings, the Thirsty Pig stands, all its tables occupied and low music playing on the inside.

Armie is leaned against the door, eyes hidden by his sunglasses as he stares out at the street, watching as people walk past him while he waits for Timothée to come back from the bathroom. After nearly an hour sitting alone at the pond, they made their way to Old Port and spent another good hour and a half sitting on the outdoor tables of Thirsty Pig, enjoying a meal, which left him with that very well known tiredness of people who eat too much.

He feels a hand on his back and looks over his shoulder, a lazy smile on his face as he sees Timothée standing there, sunglasses on and curls falling down his forehead. He cocks an eyebrow and watches as Timothée nods, answering his silent question. He takes his hand in his and pulls him closer, chuckling softly as Timothée quickly takes his hand away and stuffs it on his front pocket, a little smile on his lips. He's clearly not used to public displays of affection and although Armie would love to wrap his arms around him and kiss him senseless, he also understands he is not yet ready for something like this. Maybe he will never be, but that would be okay. Armie can deal with it.

"Where are we going?," Timothée asks, bringing Armie back to reality. "Cuz I really feel like taking a nap right now."

"Nap is for the weak, Chalamet."

"I beg to differ," he says almost offended, earning a laugh from Armie. "I think napping is the most badass thing in the world and I would kill to go back to our hotel and just lay in bed for about an hour."

Armie nods, turns to face Timothée and smiles, a little mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"What? Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I want to try something out, and if I do manage to get it, you'll be able to lie down for a while."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Hammer?"

"Follow me," Armie says while gesturing with his head, the smile never leaving his face.

He marches down the street, looking over his shoulder from time to time to make sure Timothée is still behind him. He stops in front of a large building, his eyes wandering to the gigantic promotion poster on the outside, before he steps in, walking straight to the counter.

"Good afternoon," he says as the woman behind the counter gets up, a little smile on her pink lips.

"Good afternoon. What can I help you with?"

"Do you still have any spots left on the next schooner?"

"We do actually. How many people would it be?"

"Can you give us a second, please," Timothée says before Armie can even think of answering her question. He grabs Armie's arm, pulling him to the side, a frown plastered on his face. "What the fuck are you doing, Hammer?"

"What? You get seasick?"

"No, I don't get seasick, but..."

"Then there's no reason why we can't do this."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious."

"Armie, we are not exactly suited for an afternoon in the sea."

Armie rolls his eyes, his hands landing on Timothée's shoulders. "There's no such thing, Timmy. As long as we are willing to go, that's all that matters."

"You're crazy."

"Sometimes being crazy is what moves us forward, Timothée," he winks. "You don't wanna go?"

"Is not that I don't want to go, but I don't even have a bathing suit with me right now, so I don't think..."

"Tim," Armie stops him, leaning closer to him. "I am not asking you about bathing suits, I'm asking you if you want to go on a schooner trip with me. It takes two hours, we will have fun, meet new people and I am pretty damn sure I will finish the afternoon with incredible photos."

Timothée bites his lip, his eyes wandering all over Armie's face. The joy in his eyes, the excitement in his voice, it's all crazy and yet contagious. He sighs, nods his head and slowly allows a smile to form on his lips.

"Fine, let's go."

"Seriously?"

"Just get it done before I change my mind, will ya?"

Armie chuckles, pecks his lips quickly and then runs back to the counter, talking to the attendant. Timothée remains exactly where he is, shaking his head as he watches Armie, excitement building up inside of him as well.

"Okay, it's all done, we leave in fifteen minutes."

"I can't believe I just agreed on this," Timothée admits. "This is insane and so out of character for me."

"And I bet you're excited as hell right now."

He shrugs. "Maybe a little, but you're still crazy for doing this all of a sudden. And I am probably even crazier for accepting it."

"The crazy moments are the ones we will remember when we're older, Timmy." As Timothée shakes his head, Armie wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer to him. "Besides, I can't wait to watch you lounge around the boat, shirtless and with the sun kissing your skin."

"Oh, so this is just an excuse to see me shirtless? My napping idea could involve nakedness too, mister."

"We can nap later," he says with a wink. "Or not nap at all, if you know what I mean."

Timothée chuckles, pushing Armie away from him. "Gosh, you're impossible today."

**  
  
  
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Timothée sits quietly, the ocean breeze blowing his curls as behind the sunglasses, his eyes roam through the horizon. He looks to the side as Armie flops down beside him on the seat, two cups on his hands and a large smile on his face. He grabs one of the cups, takes a sip of the Lemonade and sighs, the mixture of the Sun and ocean bringing him some much needed peace.

"Thanks," he says while gesturing to the cup, earning a little nod from Armie. "Thanks for forcing me to come on this too, it's actually quite relaxing."

"Time to admit I'm full of great ideas, Chalamet."

"You got some good ideas, but not all of them, so don't get too cocky."

"Tell me one idea of mine that wasn't good."

"Camping," he answers swiftly as Armie chuckles. "My back was hurting for three days straight after that night."

"That's you getting old, dude, it has nothing to do with me or camping."

"I'm getting what?"

Armie laughs and Timothée punches his chest, shaking his head as he rolls his eyes.

"I'm four years younger than you, so if anything, you're the old one here."

"I didn't mean in age," he explains. "More in mind and body."

"You seemed quite interested in this old body last night, but don't worry, I got the message."

Armie rolls his eyes, scotches closer to Timothée and wraps an arm around his shoulder, his nose brushing against Timothée's ear.

Timothée pouts, gently nudging Armie as he takes a couple of sips of his lemonade. He sighs once again, a little smile forming on his lips as he watches some of the other people on the boat. There are a couple of kids, who stare bewildered at the ocean, their little cheeks flushed with excitement.

He remembers the first time he saw the ocean, how excited he was and the way his father kept him close by, his hand holding tightly onto his to guarantee he felt safe. Timothée remembers his voice, the way he would whisper in his ear, explaining where they were and the history of the place. He blinks a few times, feeling a couple of tears form in his eyes at the memory.

"Timothée?"

"Huh," he asks a bit confused, turning to look at Armie.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?," he asks while trying to put a smile on his face.

"Your body suddenly became tense and you dozed off for a good minute, I got a bit worried."

"No need for that, I'm alright."

"Then why there's tears in your eyes?"

"I don't know what you talking about," Timothée swiftly turns around, facing away from Armie, who keeps his arm around his shoulder, his thumb gently caressing his skin. "You said you didn't have plans for the rest of the day," he says, trying his best to change the subject. "What you say we go back to the hotel after this, get some rest and then hit the bars."

"That sounds like a good plan."

"I'm full of them, you know?"

Armie smiles softly, aware that Timothée just wants to change the subject, and nods.

"I know."

**  
  
  
  
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Quiet little moans echo in the bedroom while Armie buries his face in the crook of Timothée's neck, his fingers knotted on his wild curls while he licks and nibbles on his salty and pale skin. The tip of his tongue traces the freckles in Timothée's shoulder, a game of connecting the dots that earns him a sweet melody.

Timothée's hand grabs onto his biceps, his warm body pressed against his, increasing the heat of his own. Armie slides a hand down his waist, feeling the shivers that go through his body, which brings a smirk to his face. Timothée is always in control of his emotions, so it's a constant treat to see him melt under his touch and every time it happens, he can't help but remember his words, saying how he has some sort of power over him, something that brings out things he didn't really expect.

And Armie absolutely loves to be the one to cause all these emotions on Timothée, to unleash a new side of him. A side he wants to get to know, just like every other side and trait of Timothée.

"You know how you said you're full of good ideas?," Armie asks in between kisses.

"Yeah?"

"If this is your idea of resting, maybe we should do this more often."

Timothée chuckles, leaning back so he can look him in the eyes.

"Oh, I plan on doing a lot of resting in the next couple of days, Hammer."

"Really," he smirks as Timothée nods, leaning closer to him. He feels Timothée's hand slide down his bare chest, his warm lips drag through his skin while their hips grind together. He takes a deep breath, hands on his thighs, stroking it gently. "Gosh, you're such a tease."

Timothée chuckles. "I didn't complain when you were doing the exact same to me, did I?"

"What can I say? I'm not as patient as you are."

"Patient?," he chuckles, looking down at Armie. "You seriously don't know me, Hammer."

Before Armie can answer, the sound of Timothée's phone ringing fills up the air. They both look at it on the bedside table, cocking an eyebrow in wonder, but mostly annoyed that anyone would even dare to interrupt them in such a moment.

"You don't have to answer," Armie says while turning Timothée's face back to him, a little grin on his face.

"Can I at least check to see who it is?"

"Is not important."

"How do you know that?," he asks in amusement, rolling to the bed before Armie can even think of answering. He reaches for the phone, a frown forming on his face when he sees the name on the screen. He sighs, eyes wandering back to Armie, who looks at him slightly confused. "I need to take this."

"Is everything okay?"

Armie only gets a nod as an answer and watches from the bed as Timothée gets up, phone pressed against his ear as he rushes to the small balcony.

"Hey, mom, what is...."

Armie sits up straight, confused eyes as he tries his best to hear what Timothée is saying. He knows he shouldn't really pay much attention, that Timothée deserves some privacy, but at the same time, Timothée's relationship with his parents is such an intriguing and weird one, he can't help but wish he could hear just a little bit, get deeper into the heart of this relationship.

The very small fragments of conversation they had about his mom, Timothée always made sure to reassure how overprotective she was and Armie can only imagine he felt suffocated while growing up, which might have left some scars.

He sighs, scratches his beard and then reaches for his own phone, trying to distract himself from the conversation that happens only a few feet away from him. He checks on his messages, his emails and types a few quick replies, only to toss the phone to the side before sliding down the bed and closing his eyes.

Armie remains quiet for a while, his breathing calming down slowly as his body starts to relax. He opens an eye when he feels the bed move and turns to his side, a little smile on his lips as he stares at Timothée, who to be completely honest, looks a bit restless.

"You alright?"

He nods slowly, fingers gently tracing his beard.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Or as fine as I can be after talking to my mom."

Armie resorts to a quick nod, aware Timothée probably doesn't want to talk much about the subject. He reaches for his arm, pulls him closer and lets him rest his head on his bare chest, his hand gently tracing down his spine. He kisses his hair and embraces him as they lie there in complete silence.

**  
  
  
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**  
  
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"You have to take another one," Timothée says through the loud music, a grin on his face as he holds onto a glass and stares at Armie.

"What? No, I'm not drinking."

"You came up with the rules, Hammer, so don't play dumb on me now."

"But I didn't lose."

"Well, neither did I," he fires back, leaning closer to Armie, who rolls his eyes. He cocks an eyebrow, eyes wandering from the drink to Armie, who sighs and reaches out for it, just as another song comes up. "Oh, wait up."

"What now?"

"You don't have to drink if you dance this song with me."

Armie frowns, slowly shaking his head. "I don't dance, Chalamet."

"I'm sure you can dance this one."

"Honestly, you don't wanna see me dancing, is a terrible sight."

"You? A terrible sight? I find that hard to believe."

"I appreciate the compliment, but it's not happening."

"C'mon," Timothée pleas, a little pout coming to his lips. "I really like this song."

"Tim, you don't wanna....," before he can finish, Timothée is already up, holding onto his hand and pulling him with him to the dance floor. Armie sighs, shaking his head as he follows Timothée down the bar and over to the little dance floor. "You're gonna regret this."

"Armie, you don't have to be a professional dancer, you just need to have fun."

As Armie nods, Timothée chuckles, holding onto his hands as they start moving their bodies. They get into a rhythm, their bodies close as the beat of the song starts to get more intense, a couple of chuckles escaping them as Armie tries to replicate Timothée's moves.

When the song reaches the bridge, Timothée wraps an arm around Armie's neck, keeping him close to him. He smiles as he feels his hand holding onto his waist, some of his fingers brushing against his skin and sending shivers down his spine. He pulls him down for a quick kiss, not even caring if there is anyone watching them, a small smile on his lips as Armie tightens his grip around his waist and kisses him back.

**  
  
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The moon is high up in the sky, shining bright and illuminating the streets, the cool night breeze coming in through the open windows, while inside the bedroom, heavy breathing and low moans echo. Their bodies are tangled, nearly impossible to make it out where one starts and the other one ends, chests rubbing together, hands groping and sliding through each other's sweaty skin.

Their lips move together slowly and sensually, no rush for anything; that night is like they are the only ones in the world and nothing else matters. Armie buries his face in the crook of Timothée's neck, his hand sliding down his feverish skin and holding tight onto his thigh. He sucks on the salty skin, runs his tongue through it and smirks as he sees the small bruise.

As their lips find one another once more, Timothée hooks his leg on Armie's hips, the heels of his foot pressing on his ass and bringing his body even closer to his. He drags his nails across Armie's back, sinks them on his shoulder and teasingly pulls on his bottom lip, his green eyes locked on Armie's as he smirks.

Slowly, he moves his hand to Armie's hair, grips on it and pulls him down, closing his eyes and moaning in pure bliss as he goes back to sucking on his neck. He arches his back slightly, their naked bodies burning, sweating and begging for more.

Armie slides down his body, puffed lips laying kisses all over Timothée's body, his tongue swirling around his nipple and causing him to curse under his breath, his hands gripping onto the bed sheets. Armie smirks, drags his tongue down his stomach and over to his pelvis, stopping just above his penis. He looks up at Timothée, who bites on his lip, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy.

If he wasn't so invested in the moment, Armie would easily get up, grab his camera and make sure that moment was captured for eternity. But his memory would have to suffice, because there was absolutely no way he would leave Timothée right now.

As Armie's hand wraps around his cock, Timothée gasps, arching his back and feeling the muscles on his thigh tense up. He pushes some of his hair back, his breathing heavy, his stomach in knots waiting for the moment he will...

"Oh, fuck," he moans under his breath as Armie swirls his tongue on the sensitive head of his cock, shivers spreading across his entire body. He hisses, greets his teeth and closes his eyes, allowing himself to immerse completely on the pleasure that radiates from his head to his toe.

Even if he wanted to go slow, tease Timothée and make him beg for more, Armie barely can handle the moans he produces and the way his body reacts to his touch. So he takes the cock in his mouth, bobs his head up and down, his fingers sneaking further down and playing with Timothée's hole, opening him up.

Timothée takes a couple of deep breaths, his cock throbbing inside Armie's mouth. He feels close to an orgasm, the double stimulation doing wonders to his body, leaving him in a state of pleasure he can barely find words to describe.

Armie notices the signs, realizes Timothée is getting closer to the edge and stops. He hovers on top of Timothée, a grin on their faces as they stare at one another, their eyes doing all the talking. He leans down, lays a couple more kisses down his chest and then locks lips with him once more, this time a lot more passionate than before.

Timothée presses his legs against Armie's hips, holds tight onto his shoulders and swiftly rolls them over on the bed. He smiles down at him, kisses down his neck and jaw, his fingers brushing against his beard as he slowly lowers himself on his cock. Timothée arches his back, a loud moan escaping him as he straddles Armie, hands sprawled on his sweaty chest.

Armie closes his eyes for a brief moment, his hands resting on Timothée's thighs as he moves his hips back and forth, driving them both into a new level of pleasure. He throws his head back, bites his lip and then swiftly wraps his arms around Timothée's body before sitting up, kissing him fiercely as Timothée holds onto his biceps.

The feeling of Armie's strong arms wrapped around his waist seems to intensify Timothée's pleasure and he moves his hips even faster, his forehead pressed against Armie's while he cradles his face in his hands. Their lips are merely an inch away from one another, their moans echoing louder and louder as they move their bodies together, their orgasms approaching with rapid speed.

Trembling, Armie rolls them over again and lies Timothée down on the bed, thrusting inside of him a few more times before Timothée gasps, his fingers sinking onto his shoulder as he cums all over his stomach. Armie watches his body tremble underneath him, his lips quivering as he takes a couple of deep breaths and gently traces a finger down his forehead, pushing some hair back before kissing him softly.

He pulls out slowly, his cock still throbbing as he goes to touch it, only to have his hand pushed away by Timothée. He bites his lip, closes his eyes and allows him to jerk him off, cum erupting from his cock only seconds later. He sighs, burying his face in the crook of Timothée's neck and chuckles, his hand sliding down his side and keeping their bodies close.

Timothée smiles gently, his clean hand stroking Armie's hair, while he places quick kisses on his shoulder and cheeks. Slowly, their breathing gets back to normal and their chests stop heaving, sleep gently consuming their spent bodies. 


	16. A New Era Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The importance of birthdays

Timothée wakes up all of a sudden, his sleepy eyes wandering through the still rather dark hotel room, before he settles for the strong arm that is tightly wrapped around his waist. A small smile forms on the corner of his eyes as he notices the contrasts between the two of them; Armie is tanned and large, while he is a little bit more pale and has a slimmer figure.

The differences between them are what makes their little thing even sexier for Timothée, though. It feels great to have his strong arms around him, feel his chest hair against his smooth one, have his beard tickle his cheeks when they come closer.

He chuckles, quickly noticing that he could spend hours staring at Armie and explaining what he likes the most about him, which would be a first. Timothée never felt so connected with someone, specially someone so different from him; he never felt the need to be this close to someone and that was still something that bothered him.

As he had mentioned days before, Armie had some sort of power over him, something that caused him to open up more than he expected or wanted. When Armie was around, Timothée could talk about his life without even noticing and that caused some unhealed wounds to come back to the surface.

With a sigh, Timothée turns on his side, his eyes finding Armie, who sleeps peacefully by his side, a few strands of hair falling down his forehead. He stares at him quietly, a flood of thoughts suddenly consuming him and making his head spin.

How far can he go on with this relationship without hurting himself in the process? Was he too reckless for running after Armie and admitting to have feelings for him? Things sure would be easier if they had maintained a strictly professional relationship....

_ You really think what you had before was professional? _ , a little voice inside his head nearly shouts.  _ Stop fooling yourself, Timothée. _

Timothée shakes his head, trying his best to push the voice -and all those thoughts- away from him. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and turns on his stomach, trying to relax his body in any possible way.

It doesn´t take more than five seconds for him to feel Armie´s beard scratch against his naked shoulder, his warm and wet lips laying kisses down his skin. It´s almost as if he could feel that he needed to take his mind off of those things.

He smiles to himself, feeling the weight of Armie´s body on top of his, his large hands exploring his sides, while he feels his bulge nestled in between his buttcheeks. Timothée smirks, looks over his shoulder at Armie, who quickly leans down and kisses his lips.

"Someone woke up in a good mood," he says in a teasing tone as Armie gently bites on his earlobe. "Or maybe I should say wood?"

Much to Timothée´s delight, Armie doesn´t even attempt to answer him or make any joke back at him, he simply chuckles and proceeds to leave kisses down his back, sending shivers down his spine. He bites his lip, his body already warming up to his touch, his blood rushing through his veins and his cock, already growing impossibly hard.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to go through all the sensations Armie is unleashing on him. His breathing slowly gets heavier, his cock starts to produce precum and he can feel butterflies in his stomach in anticipation for what might come next.

When Armie forces his legs open, a quick gasp escapes Timothée and he looks over his shoulder, licking his lips as he sees the look on Armie´s face. It's like he is suddenly a possessed man, his eyes are darker with lust and on his shiny and pink links, a devilish smile.

"Armie," the name leaves his lips without Timothée even noticing, his hands gripping tight onto the sheets as Armie buries his face in between his ass cheeks, his tongue teasing his rim. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes once again and is suddenly washed out by waves and waves of pleasure.

Armie sure wasn´t joking when he said his tongue was nearly miraculous.

As Armie starts working more desperately on his hole, Timothée buries his face in the pillows, pushes his ass back and moans, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he nearly humps the bed, a puddle of precum already forming on the sheets beneath him.

Timothée arches his back, moans growing louder as Armie moves from his hole to lick and bite on the skin of his asscheeks, only to get back to his previous task seconds later. He´s in heaven, every second that passes a new rush of pleasure consumes him, trembles going through his entire body as Armie gives his ass a quick slap.

"Oh," he manages to let it out over and over again, his brain unable to form coherent thoughts at the moment, not that they are even necessary. Armie clearly knows what he is doing and Timothée is fine leaving him with all the control.

He slides a hand under his body, about to hold onto his cock when he feels Armie´s hand on his wrist, keeping him from moving any further. He groans, desperate to touch himself, but also aware of what Armie is trying to do. He keeps himself still, takes a few deep breaths and relaxes his body, Armie´s tongue exploring him as if he was the finest delicatessen in the world.

"Fuck," he mumbles, his body trembling more and more each second, the sweat coating his skin. He bites down hard on his bottom lip and arches his back, unabashedly humping the bed as his orgasm starts to build up and every fiber of his body seems to burst into flames.

He might never say it out loud, but Armie is definitely the best sex he has ever had in his life.

And suddenly, with a grunt and the curl up of his toes, he cums all over himself, his body shuddering and his thighs spasming. Timothée doesn´t even need all the fingers on one hand to count how many times he has cum without touching himself, but he knows this is definitely the best of them all.

He sighs, allowing his body to recover itself while Armie rubs his ass, his lips traveling all over his body once more, until he is back to lying on top of him. Timothée can still feel the hardening cock, which is now oozing precum all over his lower back, so he simply turns around, stares Armie in the eye and drags his hand down his sweaty chest and stomach, before tightly wrapping it around his cock, stroking it quickly.

"Hmmm," Armie mumbles, leaning his forehead against his, his hot breathing all over his face.

Timothée smiles, pleased with himself for causing such things on a man like Armie. He kisses him a couple of times, then moves his lips down his jaw, his neck and his shoulder, which he gently bites. The moan that escapes Armie is like music to his ears and when he notices his body shuddering, Timothée quickens his pace, eager to have his cum all over his hand.

It doesn´t take long for his wishes to come true and Armie cums all over his hand, grunting loud and shaking from head to toe, almost as if it had been weeks since he had an orgasm. It seems like all their shenanigans the previous night were still not enough to get rid of all the pent up sexual energy they had inside of them.

He leans back on the bed, watches as Armie takes a breath and opens his eyes, staring right back at him. They smile at one another and Timothée then looks at his hand, licking his lips as he sees the mess Armie made.

Before Armie can even think of saying anything, Timothée raises his hand and drags his tongue across it, tasting his cum on his mouth. The look of pure lust swiftly returns to Armie´s eyes and Timothée chuckles, licking his hand clean before rolling on top of Armie, who gladly holds onto his waist and pulls him down for a heated kiss.

**  
  
  
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Armie stops in front of the mirror, his blue eyes stuck to his reflection as he lazily drags a hand through his blond hair. He smiles from the corner of his lips, steps out of the bathroom and leans against the threshold, his eyes immediately wandering to Timothée, who sits quietly on the small armchair across the room, his eyes down to his computer.

He watches him silently for a moment, content seeing the way he looks so peaceful, completely immersed in whatever he is doing. As quiet as possible, trying his best not to disturb Timothée, Armie walks over to the bed and fishes a clean pair of clothes on his bag, putting it on quickly. He checks his phone, puts it on his back pocket and walks over to Timothée, leaning on the back of the armchair to look over him.

Finally aware of his presence in the room, Timothée looks up, a little smile forming on his lip as their eyes meet. Armie chuckles, leans down and places a quick kiss on his lips, before his eyes wander back to the computer.

"Is this a file about me?," he asks slightly confused as Timothée nods. "May I know what for?"

"This is the information Zoe gave me when she pitched the article, which I never fully read it, but made sure to scan it and keep it on my computer in case I ever needed it."

"You're really bad at reading things people send you, huh?", he mocks, alluring to the itinerary he sent him before the trip and that Timothée never read it. "But why exactly do you need this? I'm right here and ready to answer any question you may have."

"I know that," Timothée starts. "But this is good for little information you might let it slip, besides, I'm using it to make notes and make sure I can go back to them once I am actually writing the article."

Armie nods, his hands massaging Timothée's shoulders.

"But if you just ask me, you won't need notes too."

"I'll only sit down to write this article properly once we're back home and if I do remember correctly, you and I don't live in the same place, which keeps me from having contact with you at any given moment."

Armie smirks and cocks an eyebrow, which immediately makes Timothée roll his eyes.

"Don't say it, not even as a joke," he warns Armie, who nods.

"But tell me, what can you find in this file that you wouldn't find out by actually asking me?"

"Hammer, you speak with emotion, you use your memories to guide me through your childhood and your college years, the relationship you have with your friends. This file is something Zoe put up, with some technical stuff that you probably don't care much about it."

"For example?"

"For example, the fact that your father graduated from Columbia University, or that you were born in Providence St. Joseph Hospital and that..."

Armie frowns as Timothée trails off, his hands holding tighter onto the laptop. Confused, Armie takes a step to the side and leans closer, trying his best to understand what had happened.

"What's wrong?"

"Your birthday," he nearly whispers as Armie scoffs. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday today?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?," he asks incredulously as Armie shrugs. "Oh, you're one of those people who doesn't like celebrating your birthday?"

"No, I actually have great memories of all of my birthdays. I just didn't think it was something important to say, or that you would care that much about it."

For a minute Timothée remains impassive, but Armie quickly notices a little sigh escaping him as a look of regret takes over his eyes.

"Am I that much of a bitch, that you'd think I wouldn't care at all about the fact it is your birthday?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," Timothée reassures him. "But did you really think I wouldn't care?"

"I don't know, Timothée. Many people don't really see the importance of birthdays, some really don't give a damn whether is theirs or not. And as much as I'd like to say I know you, you still surprise me on an hourly basis, so yeah, I wasn't sure."

"Well, just so you know, if there's one thing I think we should always celebrate is someone's birthday. You've lived a whole year, a new era of your life is about to begin and I think that's fucking important. The world is fucked up, so any excuses we have to celebrate ourselves and others, I'll take it."

"See?," he starts while chuckling. "I did not expect this at all."

"You know what? I like the fact I'm surprising to you."

Armie laughs, the little cheeky grin on Timothée's face quite amusing to him.

"Okay, so we have a birthday to celebrate," he closes the laptop, places it down on the nightstand and gets up, a hand resting on Armie's shoulder. "We're gonna go out and have some really fancy lunch, which I'll make sure the magazine pays for. Then we're gonna go see if there's any other tourist attractions and places we can visit, maybe another boat ride, or maybe something like tracking. And we're gonna end the night at a bar, drinking our weight in Tequila, because that's how you truly celebrate a birthday."

"I like it," Armie nods. "Specially the last bit."

"I had a feeling you'd like that," Timothée winks, then leans on his tiptoes and places a gentle kiss on Armie's lips, his hand cradling his face. "Happy birthday, Hammer."

Armie bites his lip, nodding slowly. "Thank you."

"Now c'mon, we have a lot to do."

**  
  
  
  
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The Sun is high in the sky, although the day isn't as warm as the previous one, maybe an indication of the seasons that are soon about to change. The cool breeze of the ocean hits from time to time, while people spread around the ferry, eyes attentive to their surroundings. Timothée is standing next to an elderly man, who apparently knows everything about the city and gladly pointed out to him all the best places to visit.

With a quick nod and a smile, he says his goodbyes to the man and turns on his heels, walking over to Armie, who is leaned against the car, arms crossed and blue eyes locked on the patch of land they are slowly approaching. He stands beside him, nudges him softly and wiggles his eyebrows, a little cheeky smile on the corner of his lips.

"So? What you think?"

"I think this little detour is gonna mess up with our whole schedule."

Timothée rolls his eyes. "Oh I see, when you come up with adventure stuff is all fun, but when I do I'm ruining the schedule?"

Armie looks at him, his blue eyes kind and in his lips a gentle smile. "My adventures didn't actually interfere in any of our bookings, that's all I'm concerned about, to be honest."

"Then stop worrying," Timothée insists. "Embrace your birthday, let me deal with any possible problems later on."

"Really?"

"What? I may not be as great as you in booking hotels, but I'm also not too shabby."

Armie smirks, nudging Timothée.

"Why do I have a feeling you'd use your journalist status to get things done easier?"

A cheeky grin takes over Timothée's face as he shrugs. "Maybe you know me better than I imagined."

"Maybe," Armie lets the word hang in the air, his eyes searching for any kind of fear from Timothée, but at that particular moment, all he can see is joy. "Any way, you have any idea of what we could do here?"

"As it turns out, I do."

There's a proud smile on Timothée's face as he turns to face Armie, his green eyes sparkling, as it often does whenever he is too excited or he has accomplished something he wanted for a long time. In this case, the first option applies, because for some reason he can barely process himself, he absolutely loves to be the one planning Armie's birthday and helping him celebrate.

"Are you planning to tell me or..."

He chuckles, nodding his head, while his fingers gently brush against Armie's forearm.

"I did some research on the island and while it's not New York City or anything, it does have some great places we could visit, which might actually result in some stunning photos from you, mister." He winks as Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "Also, my friend over there did give me some other pointers on the island and said he hopes I enjoy my time here."

"A friend?," Armie asks while cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, a friend. Why?"

"Nothing."

Timothée frowns, but a little cheeky grin starts to creep on him.

"Are you jealous, Hammer?"

"What? Why would I be jealous?" He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Timothée laughs. "You are allowed to make as many friends as you want, I just find it interesting that we're inside this ferry for last than..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Timothée pulls him closer and turns him around, pointing over the old man sitting quietly a few feet away from them. "That's my friend."

"That's your friend?"

Timothée nods, eyes locked on Armie, who nods shyly.

"He... He seems nice."

"You're terrible at trying to hide your emotions, do you know that?"

"So I've been told."

Timothée chuckles, leans back against the car and laces his arm along with Armie's, their bodies close as they stare ahead of them, the patch of land approaching more and more with every passing second.

"So," Armie starts, looking down at Timothée. "Will you tell me more about what we can do here?"

"Sure," he says excitedly. "I thought we could start by..."

**  
  
  
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Armie smiles, his blue eyes nearly glowing as he follows Timothée through the lens of his camera. He snaps a couple of photos, Timothée's laugh echoing through the street as he walks backwards, making faces and being silly. Armie absolutely adores to see this playful side of him, one who doesn't take himself too seriously and allows himself to smile without the fear of showing too much. Maybe he was wrong, maybe all Timothée needed was a bit more time to trust him and he would open himself up more...or eventually, completely.

He raises his hand, signaling for Timothée to stop and gets on his knee, aiming the camera on the perfect angle, so he gets not only Timothée, who's easily becoming his muse, but also the sky and a hint of the bay behind them. He looks proudly at the photo, raises his gaze as Timothée rushes over and leans over him, eyes glued to the little monitor where the photo is displayed.

"It's borderline annoying how good at this you are, Hammer."

"Thank you," he says with a frown. "I guess."

"It was a compliment, you don't have to look at me like this."

"I don't know if anyone has told you this before, but you're really bad at giving people compliments," he winks while getting up, an arm wrapping around Timothée's waist and pulling him close while gently pressing his lips against his.

"Stop it," he mumbles while pushing Armie away slightly. "We're in the middle of the street."

"So?"

"So everyone's looking."

Armie looks around, catches only the sight of one teenage girl staring at them, then turns back to Timothée, who bites on his lip.

"There's one person looking at us and even if there were more, I'd say fuck them."

"Okay, birthday boy, before you decide you want a full make out session in the middle of the street, we have places to go."

"And what is that place exactly?"

"Lisa's bakery," he smiles wide. "I heard they have the best cinnamon buns in the area and it's a must visit. Also, it's on the top of a hill, so you'll get a pretty good visual."

"Food and potentially good photos, say no more. What direction do we go to, Chalamet?"

Timothée sighs, a slightly confused look forming on his face as he looks around the street. Armie chuckles, shaking his head as he turns off his camera and places it back on it's bag.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"You have no idea where to go, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then lead the way."

As Timothée remains in place, eyes still wandering around, Armie chuckles and takes a hold of his hand, leading him down the street.

"What are you doing?"

"Lucky for you, I happened to see the sign for this bakery just a block away from here."

"Oh, you just...," Timothée groans and rolls his eyes, making Armie laugh out loud. "I hate you, Hammer."

"You're a liar, Chalamet, and a bad one."

"Fuck off."

"I rather fuck you," he whispers close to Timothée's ear, smirking as he sees his cheeks flush. "But I'll leave that for later."

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As it turned out, the nightlife in Peaks Island wasn't exactly what neither of the boys had in mind. Not that things were not fun and entertaining, because they were, but neither one of them really felt like staying in a crowded bar, fighting with other tourists for a bottle of beer.

After cruising through what honestly seemed all the bars in the island, they resorted to stopping by a liquor store, buying a huge bottle of vodka and some Coke, only to run off to a more secluded area later on, where they could lie on the grass and watch the boats and ferries on the bay. The moon was high up in the sky and big, illuminating their faces and bodies, while they sat next to each other in silence, the bottle of vodka passing from one to the other.

Timothée steals a quick glance at Armie, his eyes taking in all his features, the little wrinkles near his eyes, the curve of his lips, his nose, long eyelashes and even the movement of his eyebrows. He was truly an astonishingly gorgeous man, but it was his personality that truly made him special. He could use his looks to his advantage, but with time, Timothée realized that was the last thing Armie had in mind. Actually, he was aware of his good looks, but fought hard to make sure he got things because he deserved it. His easy smile, his attention to people, that's what made him successful in what he did.

And Timothée couldn't deny the fact that made him feel extremely safe beside him. Armie was a good guy, someone who cared about others, someone who clearly wouldn't hurt him in any shape or form.

_ He's almost too perfect to be true, isn't he? _ Shaking his head, Timothée tries to keep any negative thoughts away. They are still celebrating Armie's birthday and at least for today he won't let his own demons take over his head. Armie is a good guy and likes him very much, that's what he needs to focus on right now.

"Want a drag?," the question comes to snap Timothée out of his thoughts. He blinks a couple of times, arches an eyebrow to Armie and then notices the joint in between his fingers.

He nods, taking the joint in between his own fingers before taking a long drag of it. He blows out the smoke, then hands the joint back to Armie, who without any warning simply leans closer to him and kisses his lips. He pulls away quickly though, his thumb brushing against his cheeks.

"You´re strangely quiet," Armie whispers, his lips still so close to Timothée they might as well still be kissing.

"I like to be in total silence sometimes, take in the noises around me."

Armie smiles, quietly agreeing with him.

"My father used to love to do this," he stops for a second, not even surprise his father has suddenly slip into the conversation. That´s what Armie does to him, brings down his walls and allows him to reveal little pieces of himself he didn´t even know it existed. "I think I took it from him. Besides, I´m a writer, so I might be quiet but I´m never truly in silence, my head not only has a million voices telling me all these different ideas and possibilities, but they all work a hundred miles per minute."

"It must be quite tiring at times."

Timothée agrees, nodding his head slowly, while his fingers gently trace Armie´s jaw.

"It can be, but it´s also exciting."

"That´s true."

A moment of silence ensues and Timothée chuckles, shaking his head. "Why are we being this philosophical? This is your birthday celebration, we should be silly and get wasted."

"Oh, but I have the power to make any conversation philosophical, don´t you know?" As Timothée arches an eyebrow, Armie chuckles. "Lee always says I can turn any topic into something philosophical, which he obviously hates."

"Which only causes you to put even more effort into making the conversations philosophical, right?"

"You know me well, Chalamet," he winks. "But it's not really about being philosophical, it's about having deeper conversations than people are used to right now. We´re always on our phones, worried about the new update of the show we watch, trying to figure out what the next trend is gonna be. Is easy to get lost sometimes, find yourself drifting apart from the people who you care about, but I am fully aware that I am part of the problem too."

Timothée remains in silence, his green eyes locked on Armie, who also studies him, but in his case is a bit more of an apprehension look. Timothée finds it fascinating, because at the same time he is all confident and talkative, a part of him also is unsure if people around him are willing to listen. Twelve days ago he didn´t even want to write about this guy, now everything he says and does sounds like music to his ears.

"What? Was I too boring?"

Timothée shakes his head.

"You were absolutely perfect, which is a bit annoying."

Armie scoffs, shaking his head. Before he gets the chance to say anything though, Timothée leans closer to him, their lips pressed together again, this time in a much more heated and desperate kiss. He throws his weight on top of Armie, causing them both to fall back on the grass, Armie´s large hands holding tight onto his waist, while Timothée lets his fingers knot on his soft blond hair.

Their lips move together, their bodies ache for one another and under the moonlight, they allow their desire to take them over. Minutes of kissing, groping and low moans pass by, their sneaky hands exploring each other´s bodies, a scandalous image if anyone else was to walk by them.

Not that they cared, at least not at that particular moment. They were completely lost in one another, craving for more with each passing second. Maybe neither one of them noticed, but it was at that exact moment that a different kind of spark was ignited inside of them. They were in love, even if for Armie was too soon to admit and to Timothée, too scary to even dare to think about it.

As air is needed, they find no other way but to pull away from each other, lying on the grass with lazy smiles and heaving chests. Armie looks over at Timothée from the corner of his eye, smirking as Timothée winks at him.

"Was that to keep me from being my philosophical self?"

"I´ll be telling Lee what´s the secret to shut you up, don´t worry."

"Sorry to say, it won´t work as well with him."

"Poor Lee." Armie shrugs and Timothée laughs. He sits down, taking in a deep breath as he looks around. "Wanna go back to our little Inn? The night is still young and we could finish your birthday with a bang."

"Like this morning?"

Timothée smirks, nodding his head. "Like this morning."

"Then what are we still doing here?"

Timothée laughs as Armie quickly stands up, grabs the bottle of Vodka and stands his hand out for him. He grabs it, gets up and follows him down the small path of grass, back to the empty streets of Peaks Island. A couple of teenagers pass them by, but the walk back to the Inn is mostly lonely, just the two of them, stealing kisses from one another in between gulps of their vodka.

By the time they are inside the building, trying their best to keep themselves quiet, the bottle is already empty and Timothée tiptoes through the hallway, his slightly drunk self making silly faces whenever he looks at Armie over his shoulder.

He goes through his pockets, trying to find the keys, but sighs as he seems to have lost it. With a groan, he turns to look at Armie, who has not only a smirk plastered on his face, but also the keys dangling from his fingers.

"Honest to God, I fucking hate you."

"Just give me some room, Chalamet."

Timothée moves to the side, leaning against the wall as he watches Armie unlock the door. He follows him inside, locking it behind him and nearly squeals when he is pressed against it only seconds later, his t-shirt being yanked off by Armie´s hand.

He wraps his arms around Armie´s neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls him up and carries him to the bed, throwing him down before crawling over his body. Timothée bites his lip, runs his fingers through Armie´s hair and turns his face to him, looking directly in his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Hammer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys can´t even tell, but they are completely head over heels. Who´s gonna admit it first though?


	17. It´s All I Have Ever Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes to get hurt

"...but I figured out quite young how privileged I was to be experiencing all of that."

Timothée nods, stealing a quick glance at Armie before he focuses his eyes back on the road. The sky is cloudy and grey, signaling the prospects of rain as the day progresses. The roads are nearly empty, only a couple of cars passing them by as they ride down towards the next stop of their trip, which is slowly coming to an end.

Sitting on the passenger seat, which is pulled back so he can spread his legs, Armie has his sunglasses on, a hand dangling from the window and his phone on his lap. As he talks, sharing new bits of his life, he scrolls through some apps, snaps photos of the road and texts his friends. The eagerness in his voice and his magnificent ability to tell a story don't change even a bit though, no matter what else he is doing.

Timothée finds that quite impressive and charming, but what's even more charming is Armie's honesty and his perspective of the world. And not only his world, but the world of everyone around him.

"... I had everything I could have asked for, you know? I went abroad to take photography classes, I met many different cities and countries, I went to one of the best universities in the country. When I started to really go out there and work on my own, I saw people who had to work for nearly three years to afford a professional camera that was good enough to make a living out of the job. Meanwhile, I was gifted my first professional camera when I was only fourteen."

Timothée smiles from the corner of his lips, his eyes traveling to Armie once again.

"I think acknowledging your privilege is already a big step, Armie."

"I know, but I want to make sure I do more than just acknowledge it, you know?"

Timothée nods, but an inquisitive look takes over his face, which makes Armie chuckle.

"For years now I've wanted to partner with public schools and community centers, create a project where I can teach teens photography."

"That's an amazing idea."

"Exactly. I want to be able to use my privilege for something good. I have dozens of cameras at home. My dad knows a lot of people that could help us with the project, donating cameras so these kids could actually get acquainted with the equipment. My mom also has a lot of contacts in schools all across New York, people that already do some amazing work in public schools."

"And why haven't you made this happen yet?"

"A bit of procrastination," he admits with a shrug as Timothée shakes his head. "But also, my mom's illness did push a lot of things to a secondary place in my head. I still want to do this though, and maybe eventually build up a place of my own, where I can partner with all different kinds of people and give teens in need an opportunity."

Timothée can't help but smile wide, hearing Armie say those words makes him feel warm inside, hopeful of a better tomorrow. If more people were like him, maybe things would be a lot better.

"I hate how good you are, Hammer, because it honestly makes all of us mere mortals look stupid," he jokes as Armie rolls his eyes. "But I'm also very pleased to hear all of this and to see that you want to help others, because it's truly inspiring and I am sure there are a lot of people out there who wished someone would have given them an opportunity when they were younger."

Armie nods. "And I'm also very lucky to have people around me that are willing to help me with this project. Taylor also wants to be a part of it somehow, maybe even give free computer classes, teach kids how to develop games and websites."

"That's brilliant."

"Yeah," he smiles. "Let's just hope I can get this out of the paper before I'm old and grey."

Timothée chuckles. "You're just twenty eight, Armie..."

"Twenty nine," he corrects him.

"You're just twenty nine, you have plenty of time ahead of you, so I don't think you need to worry too much."

"Maybe you could be part of the project too," he adds as Timothée looks at him. "What? Don't you think the kids want to know more about being a journalist and writer?"

"Are you formally asking me to be part of your project?"

"Maybe."

Timothée nods, smiling over at Armie for a moment. "Okay, I'll think about it."

"Think of all the poor kids who would lose so much without your knowledge."

"Yeah, but there's also the downside of being close to you for a longer period of time and I don't know if I can handle that."

"Ouch," Armie clenches his heart while feigning pain and shakes his head.

"But," Timothée says between chuckles. "I might make the sacrifice for the children."

"Only for the children."

"Only for the children."

**  
  
  
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Timothée opens the door and steps inside the small bedroom, which is decorated with old wallpapers that remind him of his grandmother's house. A small smile appears on the corner of his lips at the memories, easier days for sure, days where his only concern was what flavor of ice cream he would buy with the three dollars his grandparents gave him.

As his eyes wander the room, Armie walks past him, throwing their bags on the large king size bed. Timothée moves his gaze to him, watching silently as he kicks off his dusty Timberland boots and then removes his black shirt, revealing his muscular torso. He bites his lip, taking in the beauty of this giant man that stands just a couple of feet away from him, a man he's slowly getting to know more and more with the passing days, a man that has introduced him to new levels of pleasure. But most importantly, a man that surprisingly enough is able to take out of him even the parts he wishes he could keep hidden.

"What you staring at?," Armie asks with a smirk, causing Timothée to snap out of his thoughts. "You're enjoying the view?"

"It is quite the outstanding view, I have to admit," he shrugs while pointing to the bed. "But I happen to notice this bedroom only has one king size bed, and the lady at the front desk said that luckily she didn't need to change our room despite us being a day late."

"Your point being?"

"You promised me that every room you booked had two beds, after all it was the main rule in my list."

"Your list was debunked the moment I realized you didn't even care to read the itinerary," Armie winks. "Besides, if given the option, I'm sure you wouldn't want a bed for yourself now. Not when you can have me on your side, or on top of you."

Timothée smirks as Armie walks towards him, their eyes locked. He chuckles as Armie hooks a finger on his belt loop, pulls him closer and pecks his lips, his finger gently tucking a curl behind his ear.

"I feel kind of dirty, I'll go take a shower before we hit the city."

"Okay," Timothée nods and pecks his lips one more time before Armie turns on his heels and walks over to the bathroom. He throws himself on the bed, a loud sigh escaping him as he searches for his phone.

He groans, trying his best to move only the necessary amount to fish for the phone on his backpack. They were up early and a sudden tiredness and laziness takes him over; if he wasn't so tired, he certainly would get up and jump in the shower with Armie, but at the point he is at, even sex seems like a taske too demanding for him to partake.

He checks his messages, his emails and then scrolls through his contact list before hitting one of the names, pressing the phone against his ear as he waits for an answer. It doesn't take long for Chris's voice to fill his ear, a mix of agitated and tiredness.

"Well, look at that, he's alive."

"Hello to you too, Chris."

"I was just about to phone the police and get them after you, but it seems like you were just having so much fun with your boyfriend that you forgot about your friends."

"I am having fun, but he is not my boyfriend."

"Oh please, don't even get me started."

"He's not my boyfriend, Chris. Armie and I are just..."

"Just?"

"It's just sex, okay? Is not that big of a deal."

"I beg to differ."

"You're not here, you have no idea what's the nature of our relationship."

"Maybe, but I have seen all the beautiful pictures of you he has posted on his personal Instagram. Not to mention the fact you just called it a relationship, which means is definitely more than sex."

"Just stop it."

There's a moment of silence and Timothée hears rumbling in the background.

"Fine, I'll stop, but only because I know you and if I keep this going you might as well get into Timothée Mode and ruin this whole thing before you two even have the chance to start something."

"There's nothing to..."

"How are things going over there?," he interrupts, which makes Timothée roll his eyes. "I've seen some of the photos you guys have been posting and it all looks amazing."

"Are you seriously changing the subject like that?"

"You were the one who told me to stop."

"Touché," Timothée sits up, leaning back on the pillows as his eyes wander around the room. "This trip has been quite enlightening for me, actually. So many different people and relationships we cross paths with, so many different places with so many stories to tell. A trip like this is fun, but it also helps you build a new perspective on things."

"That's interesting, I don't think I have seen you this enthusiastic about something in a long time."

Timothée shrugs. "Getting out of your comfort zone can be reinvigorating, I suppose. Just don't get too excited, I'm still the same old Tim. I'm just a bit more inspired by the things around me, that's all."

"I think that's a start."

"Have you talked to Zoe?"

"Yeah, I saw her last night. Things at the magazine are going crazy, she's working like a mad woman."

"Zoe is always working like a mad woman, Chris."

"I know, but someone got sick and with you out she's had to double the work, I guess." Timothée sighs, but Chris talks before he even has the chance to think of anything to say it back. "You still coming back on Saturday?"

"No. We have extended our stay in a couple of cities, which will cause a little delay on our itinerary, but we should be back in New York in four or five days."

"So two weeks turns into almost three? This Hammer dude must have a magical dick or something."

Timothée tries. With every fiber of his being he tries his best to remain serious, but he can't help but burst out laughing, which causes Chris to do the same.

"You're laughing, so it must be true."

"I fucking hate you."

"That's a lie, you love me."

"No, I don't. You're like that annoying sibling I can't get rid of, no matter how hard I try."

"Dude, don't call me a sibling when we've fucked, it's disgusting."

"For fuck's sake, I don't even know why I bother talking to you."

"Again, because you loooooove me."

"Idiot."

"An idiot you love," he reinforces. "But this idiot has to leave now."

"That's okay, we're about to head off anyway," he raises his gaze as the door to the bathroom opens, a wet Armie stepping out. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye."

Timothée tosses the phone back in his backpack and gets up, going through some of his bags in search of something a little lighter to wear. The sky is still clouded, but it's warmer than it was and he suddenly realizes he is in desperate need for a shower. He looks over his shoulder, gazing at Armie as he dries off his hair and smiles, only to curse loudly when his hand gets caught up in between the zipper of his bag.

"Fuck," he says repeatedly, looking down at his hand as blood starts to drip down his palm. He bites hard on his lip, takes a couple of deep breaths and looks to the side as he feels Armie's hand on his shoulder.

"How did you...," he doesn't even finish, he simply pulls him down on the bed and reaches for a chair, sitting opposite from him.

Silently, Timothée watches as he reaches for a small first aid kit on his bag and takes a couple things out of it. He winces as he cleans his palm, his eyes wandering around the room so he won't have to look at the blood.

"Let me guess, you don't like seeing blood?"

"Does anyone?" Timothée asks as Armie shrugs. "I just always make sure I'm extremely careful so I won't get hurt."

"I see," he nearly mumbles, applying a gaze to the cut. "So it's not only an emotional thing, but also a physical one?"

Their eyes meet and Timothée swallows, one hundred percent aware of what Armie means to say. He sighs, looks down at his hand, which now has a perfect bandage wrapped around it.

"No one likes to get hurt, so I don't see why it is so bad that I do my best not to suffer."

"I never said it was a bad thing," Armie admits. "I do believe it must be quite tiring at some times though. Always keep your walls up, push people away because you're afraid of what they can make you feel."

"It's all I have ever known."

His words hang in the air for a moment as they sit there face to face, his hand still resting on top of Armie's and his need to shower now completely gone. How things had gone from silly conversation with Chris on the phone to this was beyond him, but Timothée wished he could turn back time and end this conversation before it even started. Or at least he thought he did.

"How do you do it?"

"Huh?"

"How can you be so open with everything and everyone?"

Armie shrugs, his thumb gently caressing his wounded hand.

"I don't think there's a recipe for it, to be honest. It's all I have ever known," he mirrors Timothée's words, a little smile on the corner of his lips. "I've been hurt before, I have regretted many decisions I have made, but I think all these moments, all the sadness I've been through, is just as important as the good moments. I don't think shutting people down, or pushing them away are necessarily the answer, especially not because one person has done us bad once."

Timothée remains in silence, mostly because he's still processing what he just heard, but also because he is trying to keep himself from saying too much. Obviously, when it comes to Armie, none of his efforts seem to work.

"My dad left me when I was only ten years old," he finally admits, letting out a sigh afterwards. "He woke up one day and decided that our life wasn't for him anymore and so he just left."

Armie blinks a couple of times, but remains in silence. He knows Timothée needs his time.

"I would have understood him if he had asked for a divorce and moved on with his life, but no, that's not what he did. After fifteen years with my mom, after building a family, he simply got fed up with his life, packed his bags and left without even saying goodbye, without looking back."

Timothée feels the tears forming in his eyes as Armie stares at him, his deep blue eyes trying to understand everything that was going on inside of him.

"He left fourteen years ago and he never once had the balls to reach out and ask me how I was doing."

"Wait, what?" Armie finally speaks, eyes wide. "You haven't talked to him ever since he left?"

"He never cared, he never called or anything. All I know of him is because I searched for it on the internet, but he never even dared to send me a birthday card."

"Well, he's a fucking asshole, that's what he is."

Timothée chuckles, despites the tears that are now falling down his cheeks. He takes a breath, tries to stop them and then watches as Armie moves closer, cradles his face in his hands and places a gentle kiss on his lips.

"It's his loss," he finally says. "And I know it's easier said than done, but you shouldn't allow his mistakes to affect your life in such a way. Not everyone is gonna do the same as he has done, Timmy."

Timothée simply nods, unsure he can actually find something he could say at the moment.

"Now, what you say we go get something to eat? I'm fucking starving."

Timothée laughs, relieved that Armie is trying his best to change the subject. He isn't sure he can keep on talking about his father right now.

"Are you always hungry?"

"Pretty much."

He nods, wiping away his tears. He looks at the bandaged hand for a second, then back at Armie, trying to come up with a proper smile.

"Fine, let's go eat something."

"You can choose the restaurant."

"Thanks," he says as Armie shrugs, walking towards the door. Timothée grabs his hand, pulls him back and shakes his head. "I mean it, thanks."

"No need for that," he smiles, tucking a curl behind his ear. "I'm here whenever you feel like talking. But if you don't feel like it, I can always just sit next to you and be in silence together."

Timothée simply nods. No one has ever offered such a thing for him and while he truly appreciated it, he also wasn't sure of what to do with such an offer. So for now he just smiled and made a mental note to at least try and talk, even if that sometimes hurt more than anything else.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
**

Armie exits the small shop with a Soda can in his hand, his eyes scanning the grey sky before he spots Timothée leaned against the wooden rail. He's standing there for a few minutes now, silently watching as people walk on the sand and swim on the ocean. He smiles from the corner of his lips, taking in his features and the contemplative look he has in his face.

Hearing him talk about his father was a surprise, but Armie can't deny it felt good to know Timothée felt safe in confiding such a thing to him. Maybe they only knew each other for two weeks, but Armie could tell his father was the kind of subject Timothée would rather keep it to himself. And he can't really blame him, Armie believes the pain such a topic must bring him is immense.

Armie bites his lip, unsure if he should leave him be or if he should go and join him, make sure he isn't alone. He knows that when he is feeling down, he likes to surround himself with friends, make sure he isn't left to his own devices. With a deep breath, Armie walks over, standing beside him and nudging him softly.

"You're awfully quiet this afternoon," he says as Timothée looks over at him with a small smile and a shrug. "I don't blame you though, I know that conversation we had earlier was not easy on you."

"It's okay."

"I just want you to know that we don't ever have to talk about that again," he reassures Timothée, doing his best to smile. "I know how painful, and rightfully so, the subject can be. So I don't want you to feel pushed into sharing anything else, we can just forget such conversation ever existed."

"You don't have to worry, Armie, I didn't tell you about my father because I felt pressured to do so, I did it because..."

"Because?"

Timothée shrugs. "Because for some weird reason I feel safe sharing things with you that I don't even do with my best friends, or that at least took me months or even years to tell them."

"And why is that? Why am I different?"

"I wish I knew," Timothée admits while turning to face him, a little smile on the corner of his mouth. "But most of the time is almost like I don't have control over myself, I just say whatever is on my mind. Maybe you are the one who could explain what kind of witchcraft you put on me, because that never happened before."

"I'm sorry."

He arches an eyebrow, slightly confused. "What are you apologizing for?"

"For making you do things you're not used to or..."

"Stop it, Hammer. You're not pressuring me into doing or saying anything, I just feel comfortable enough around you to share this kind of things. Is it weird and slightly scary for me? Fuck yeah, but I've also can't seem to control it, so let's just see how it goes."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm flattered that I'm someone you feel comfortable talking to," he mocks as Timothée chuckles. "In all seriousness though, I just want you to know that I meant what I said earlier, okay? I'm here if you want to talk or if you just want some company."

Timothée simply nods, turning his attention back to the beach. As Armie watches him silently, he notices him wincing when he rests his wounded hand on the wooden rail. He sighs, reaches for it and takes a look at it, his thumb gently caressing the bandage.

"Is it hurting? Because we could go to the hospital and check it out. I didn't think it was deep, but maybe we need someone to properly check on it."

"Is okay, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

Timothée smiles, his wounded hand resting on Armie's cheek as he takes a step closer to him.

"I truly appreciate how nice you are to me, Hammer, but you don't need to keep checking on me every two seconds, okay? I'm a grown man and despite some issues I might have, I can still take care of myself."

"Doesn't mean I can't help."

"You did more than enough, Armie. Besides, it's not really hurting, it just stings a bit depending on the movement I make."

Armie nods and places a quick kiss on Timothée's palm before handing him the Soda can. He takes a deep breath, smiles as he sees some kids running on the sand and then looks back at Timothée, nudging him once more.

"I heard there's a small museum nearby, do you mind if we check it?"

"No, I think it will be nice actually. It sure will help me take my mind off of some things."

"Then let's go, I'm done seeing that sad look on your face. We need to forget about your asshole of a father and focus on something more wholesome."

Timothée chuckles. "Like what?"

"Like what bar we'll be going to tonight?"

"When it comes to booze and food, you never have enough, do you?"

"Nope."

**  
  
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**  
  
  
  
**

The streets are calm, thunder and lightning striking in the night sky as the storm only intensifies. Inside the small Inn, locked away from the rain, guests spread themselves on the lobby and the common areas, talking among themselves while they wait for the weather to get better.

Secluded in their own bedroom, with just a crack of the window open, Timothée and Armie sit on the floor, legs crossed, a bottle of Tequila, burger wrappers in between them and cards of poker. Timothée stares at Armie with intense eyes, trying to read his expression before playing his next card. He looks down at the set in his hands, bites his lip and then cocks an eyebrow, his greenish eyes wandering to Armie one last time before he sets down a card.

Armie follows suit, a condescending smile on his lip, which makes Timothée roll his eyes in annoyance.  _ It isn't possible for someone to be this good at everything _ , Timothée thinks as he sighs and plays yet another card, even if he's not even a bit optimistic about winning this game.

"You're cheating," he mumbles as Armie frowns, but not even then he lets his cocky smile disappear from his lips.

"How am I cheating, Chalamet?"

"I don't know, but you're fucking cheating."

"Don't be a sore loser, Chalamet. Just admit I am better than you in this and we can maybe move along to another game."

"What? Hell no," he says with annoyance, shaking his head as Armie chuckles. "We're gonna have another match."

"And you gonna lose it again."

"I won't if you stop cheating."

"I'm not the cheating kind."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, aware that Armie doesn't mean this only in the game. He chuckles, unable to control himself and just lets out sigh, shaking his head.

"Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"So damn charming. It's almost impossible to look at you and be annoyed, even when it's clear you're cheating."

"I'm not cheating, but I am known for my charm," he winks. "Apparently, I got it from my dad."

Timothée rolls his eyes once again and Armie laughs, leaning closer to him so he can place a quick kiss on his lips.

"Do you really want another match?"

"There's a storm outside and we have no power, I think this is basically all we can do."

"I beg to differ," Armie quickly adds. "I think there's plenty of things we could do, each other included."

"Oh my God, you're unbelievable."

"And you're blushing, so I guess you liked my idea."

"Shut up, we have another match to start."

"Fine, if you insist."

"I do," Timothée says with a little tilt of his head, the smile on his lips impossible to control.

**  
  
  
**

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****  
  


The bedroom is illuminated by the strike of another lightning, the sound of rain filling the otherwise quiet space. Armie lies on his side on the bed, the sheets a mess under his feet as his eyes remain locked on Timothée, who lies right beside him.

He's got his eyes on his Ipad, trying his best to keep himself focused, while Armie moves his finger up and down his arm, a little cheeky grin on his lips whenever Timothée squirms under his touch. He lets his finger run all the way down his arm and rests his hand on top of Timothée's wounded one, his eyes darting to it immediately.

Their eyes meet for a moment, Timothée smiles and then turns his attention back to his Ipad, scrolling through a file. Armie takes his hand in his, analyzes the bandage and then brings it to his face, kissing it gently, which earns him a loud sigh from Timothée. At first he isn't sure if that's a good sign or if he's fed up with him, but the sudden gleam in his green eyes let Armie know is actually a good thing.

_ This guy is into you, Hammer, there's no need to second guess his every move _ .  _ Even if he does seem like a slippery one _ . Armie bites his lip, trying not to dwell much in thought and raises a bit of the bandage, taking a closer look at Timothée's cut.

"How does it look?"

"You're healing just fine," he assures him. "It turns out I was right and this wasn't a deep cut. I do still wonder how the hell did you manage to do that."

Timothée chuckles. "Maybe I have been able to keep my cool the last few days, but for someone who does everything not to get hurt, I turned out to be quite the clumsy person."

"I can believe that," he says while Timothée shoots him a glare. "Your hand is not an issue though, you'll be fine in a day or two."

"Thank God, I hate wearing this thing, it's itchy and hot as fuck."

Armie doesn't answer him back, he simply smiles and nods his head. Silence takes them over swiftly, Timothée back to concentrating on whatever he is doing, while Armie just stares at him. After a minute or so, he snaps the Ipad away from him, tossing it to the little nightstand beside him.

"What the fuck?"

"Can't you just let go of this thing? You've been stuck to it ever since power came back."

"Well, it's your fault."

"How is it my fault?"

"Is about you I'm writing, right? So it's technically your fault."

"Is that the profile?," he asks slightly confused. "I thought you said you would only work on it properly once we were back."

"And I will, but Zoe likes to have some sort of preview on what her team is working on and I am trying to get something together to send her."

"Can I read it?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you seriously gonna leave me hanging?"

"You're gonna read it along with everyone else, Hammer."

"What if I hate it?"

"Well, that's gonna be sad, but we'll both have to learn how to live with it."

"Unbelievable," Armie shakes his head, but can't help but chuckle as Timothée winks at him. "You're so beautiful."

"What?," Timothée says after a moment of silence, not really sure of what he just heard.

"You're beautiful."

"Stop it."

"What? I'm only being honest."

"Okay, but it's just... I don't know, it's weird and..."

"You're gonna tell me you are not used to people saying you're beautiful or complimenting you?"

"Well, I suppose compliments are not exactly the priority when you have mostly one night stands."

A moment passes and Armie shrugs. "Well, that's too bad, because you should be constantly reminded of how beautiful you are."

"Please, stop saying that."

"Okay, I'll stop, but under one condition."

"Which is?"

"Kiss me."

Timothée only stares at Armie for a moment, but then smirks as he swings a leg over his body and straddles him, his hands framing his face as he leans down to kiss him. What starts slow and tender, swiftly morphs into something more heated and desperate, Armie's hands sliding down his back and over to his thighs, which he squeezes it softly.


	18. Social Conduct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adventurous man.

Rap plays low, the trees passing them by as they ride down the 95, Timothée with his feet up on the dash and his hand hanging from the window, while Armie keeps his eyes attentive to the road ahead of him, a small smile coming to the corner of his lips from time to time.

Their eyes find each other at certain moments, knowing looks on their faces and smiles that reveal more than words ever could. Just a couple of days ago, this kind of look and understand between them would be something neither one of them could really imagine happening, but after days on the road together, after getting to know each other deeper and seeing each other naked, Armie and Timothée had reached a entirely new level of companionship and understanding of one another.

Not to mention their new found relationship also sparkled a lot of new and fun moments between the two of them, moments they sure would keep in their mind for years to come.

With his eyes down to his phone, scrolling through a couple of articles, Timothée bites on his lip, a mischievous idea suddenly taking over his head. He looks up, eyes instantly moving to the signs around them before turning to Armie, who steals a quick glance at him.

"Turn right on the next entrance," he quickly says as Armie cocks an eyebrow.

"What? That´s not the right way."

"Oh c´mon, just trust me on this one."

"What you got in that head of yours, Chalamet?"

Timothée smirks. "I heard about this place, which seems quite beautiful and peaceful, so I thought we could make a quick stop there before heading down to our new destination."

"And what place is that exactly?"

"Will you trust me, Hammer?"

Armie frowns, his blue eyes stuck on Timothée for a moment. "Why are you suddenly getting all adventurous?"

"Oh," Timothée leans closer, his hand sliding down Armie´s shoulder as he whispers on his ear. "I´ve always been adventurous, Hammer, you simply haven´t seen it to the fullest yet."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep," he says, making sure to pop out the  _ p _ , his lips brushing against Armie´s ears. His hand slides down his chest, his stomach and lets it rest on top of his crotch, biting his lip as Armie squirms under his touch. "And I honestly can think of many other adventurous things we can do."

"Your proposal is nearly impossible to decline, but if you do keep this up, I might crash before we even have the chance to see anything."

Timothée bites on Armie´s ear, chuckling as a low moan escapes him and fills the air around them. He kisses his cheek, sits back on his seat and laughs as Armie keeps on squirming around, the bulge in his pants quite noticeable.

"Fine, I´ll stop."

Armie steals a glance at him, shakes his head and laughs, earning a confused, but still amused look from Timothée.

"What? What you laughing at?"

"Sometimes I just can´t with you, you know? You´re quiet, full of walls surrounding you, but then you´re jumping head first into things and trying to get me a handjob in the middle of the..."

"It was going to be a blowjob," he corrects him.

Armie chuckles. "Okay, a blowjob then. Still, there are so many layers to you and I..."

"You?"

"I´m absolutely drawn to every single one of them."

"Lucky me."

"Lucky you," he nods, smiling at Timothée. "Anyway, where should I turn?"

"Turn right on the next entrance," Timothée leans forward on the seat, pointing to the sign as Armie nods. As silence suddenly takes them over, he bites on his lip and watches the road, which quickly becomes narrower and dirtier. His eyes wander down to his phone, checking the map, before raising his gaze once more. "Keep going for a mile, then turn left."

"Is this the moment you drive me to my death?"

"Oh, are you scared? Because if I remember correctly, I didn´t complain when you forced me to walk a dirty path of road after knowing you for only a couple of hours."

"If I do remember correctly, you did complain. Actually, I feel like all you did on the first three days was complain."

"You were getting on my nerves."

"I was only trying to be nice."

"Cockblocking me was not you trying to be nice."

"I was trying to be nice, but I did not realize you had someone else in the bedroom with you, otherwise I wouldn´t have interrupted."

"You wouldn´t have?"

Armie meets his gaze, perfectly aware of what his question entails. As Timothée cocks an eyebrow, eagerly waiting for an answer, Armie shrugs.

"Okay, maybe in some ways I did want to interrupt."

"I knew it."

"Oh, shut up."

"What? I knew it, I was sure you did it on purpose."

"That´s not what I said."

"Maybe it´s not what you said, but it´s what you meant."

"Fuck you, Chalamet."

"You´ve been doing that a lot lately."

Armie bursts out laughing, even if he wishes he hadn´t. He shakes his head, his hand resting on Timothée´s thigh, which he squeezes softly. His eyes avert from the road when he feels Timothée´s hand rest on top of his, his thumb gently stroking his hand. He smiles, more to himself than anything, and moves his eyes back to the road, watching as the trees take over their surroundings.

They drive in silence for a couple more minutes, Timothée opening his mouth only to explain to Armie the directions. Soon enough, the road leads to a glade, the trees giving space to short grass and beautiful flowers. Armie parks the car, astound eyes roaming through the whole area, until a smile takes him over.

_ The boy sure knows how to impress _ , he thinks to himself before turning to look at Timothée, who´s already jumping out of the car. He follows him, closing the door behind him and takes a few steps deeper into the glade, the Sun shining bright on his face, warming his skin and nearly making him glow.

"C´mon," Timothée reaches out for his hand, nodding towards a little hidden path to their right.

"So this is not the surprise after all?"

"A glade? Hell not," he chuckles, pulls him closer and quickly heads down the path, the unmistakable smell of wet leaves taking over their nostrils.

"Where exactly are you...," Armie stops as they reach a large clearing, a river calmly flowing in the distance and a little waterfall to their right. "Holy shit."

"Pretty, huh?"

"Pretty? Timothée this is unbelievable. I sure as hell couldn´t imagine this place was hidden here."

"I never heard of it either, but I saw some comments about it and decided it was worth giving a shot," he shrugs, smiling at Armie over his shoulder. "Speaking of shots, are you not gonna snap some photos of this place?"

"I... I didn´t bring my camera."

"What kind of photographer are you, Hammer?"

Armie laughs, shaking his head.

"You know what? Is okay, I think I rather enjoy the moment than hide behind a camera."

While he nods, Timothée watches as Armie smirks. He cocks an eyebrow, slightly confused, then watches in awe as he starts removing his shoes and then his clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"Being adventurous," is all he replies, while the last piece of clothing, his boxer-briefs, hit the ground. "Are you planning on joining me?"

"That water must be freezing."

"And you´re gonna allow that to stop you?"

"You´re insane," he chuckles. "What if someone comes in and sees us like this?"

"Then they´re gonna come face to face with two hot guys completely naked. I honestly think they will be the winners in this whole situation."

Timothée goes to slap him, but Armie takes a hold of his arm and pulls him closer, blue eyes locked on his.

"You said you were adventurous, but does that only apply to us being confined by bedroom walls or in the privacy of our car?" As Timothée sighs, Armie smirks. "Besides, just a few days ago you and I broke into a public pool and you seemed fine doing it, so I don´t see the problem with this."

"God, I fucking hate you," he mumbles, stepping away from Armie so he can remove his clothes. He takes a deep breath, butterflies in his stomach as he removes each piece of clothing, the thrill of being naked in a public place consuming him. He looks over at Armie, who stands his hand out and nods slowly, following him down to the river.

They step in at the exact same time, the cold water hitting their warm bodies. Armie turns to face Timothée, his strong arms wrapping around his waist and keeping him close to him. He leans forward, pecking his lips softly, smiling as Timothée wraps his arms around his neck.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

Armie sighs in contentment, jumping out of the car as his eyes wander around the area. The parking lot is small, just as the Inn, but even so it all seems cozy and taken care of, even from a distance. He opens the trunk, takes off their bags and smiles over at Timothée, who runs his fingers through his wet hair as he steps out of the car.

Armie stops to stare at him for a brief moment, loving how the Sun hits him and creates almost a halo around his body. Maybe he´s falling way too hard and way too fast, but every single thing about the boy makes him smile, makes him feel whole.

As Timothée walks over to him, he hears his phone ringing and reaches out for it on his back pocket, arching an eyebrow as he sees his father´s name light up the screen. He raises his gaze, shows him the screen and watches as he nods, taking the bags from him.

"You talk to him, I´ll check us in."

"Thank you," he winks and turns on his heels, walking away from Timothée as he hits the answer. "Hey, dad."

"Hey, kid."

It only takes those two words for Armie to notice something different about his father´s voice, and he instantly feels a chill run down his spine.

"Dad, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, things are okay."

"Dad, you know I can tell when you´re lying to me."

"I´m not lying to you, Armie," he stops for a moment, but before Armie can say anything else he hears his voice once more. "Your mom wasn´t feeling very well, so I had to rush with her to the hospital. The doctor said everything will be alright, but she is spending the night here for observation."

"Why didn´t you...," Armie sighs, burying his face in his hand. "I´m going back right away, dad."

"No, you´re not."

"I´m a grown man, dad, you can´t stop me from seeing my mother."

"You´re right, I can´t, but I wish you wouldn´t."

"Dad, this is ridiculous."

"Armand, this project of yours is important for your career, it brightens and enhances your portfolio in ways you might not even imagine. Not to mention, your mother and I have been keeping an eye on your social media the past few days, you seem happy around that boy."

"It doesn´t matter what..."

"You know your mother, you know exactly how sad she would be if she found out you put a hold on everything because of her. So please, please, don´t stop doing what you´re doing right now. Your happiness is her happiness and right now, fuck Armie, right now she needs all the happiness she can get."

"This is not fair, dad."

"Life often isn´t fair, Armie."

"Fine, I´ll stay. But I go back home in about five days and once I am back, I´ll head straight to you guys."

"That´s fine by me," he says softly. "Armie, I didn´t want to disturb you or make you worried, but I also know it wouldn´t be right to keep this from you. Just know she is fine, medicated and the doctor will be clearing her out tomorrow morning."

"I´ll call and talk to her then."

"You do that, I know she will love it."

"Call me if anything changes, alright?"

"You don´t have to worry. Now go, I promise to keep you updated."

"Thanks."

"Love you, kid."

"Love you too, dad."

Armie hangs up the phone, a loud sigh escaping him. A matter of seconds and his whole day completely changed, what had started as uplifting and happy, suddenly became dark and unhopeful. He takes a deep breath, rubs his face and then marches inside the small Inn, his eyes wandering around the lobby for Timothée.

"May I help you?"

"I was looking for..."

"Oh, you´re Mr. Hammer?," the man asks as Armie nods slowly. "Mr. Chalamet is already in your bedroom, but here are your keys."

Armie takes the key in his hands, thanks the man and heads up the stairs, his blue eyes now losing its glow. He walks in, closes the door behind him and leans against the wall, his eyes down to the floor as he goes through everything his father said once again. Is he an idiot for listening to him? He should be back in his car by now, driving as fast as he can to make sure he sees his mother.

"Would you look at that? They gave us two single...," Timothée's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and as he looks up, he sees the look of concern on his face. "Is everything alright?"

"Nothing is alright."

"Armie, what happened?"

"My mom is in the hospital," he nearly whispers, tears forming in his eyes.

"W-What?"

"My mom is in the hospital," he repeats a bit calmer. "My dad said she wasn't feeling well and he rushed with her to the hospital, apparently everything is alright now but the doctor wants her to stay until tomorrow morning for observation."

"Okay, so there's no need to worry then. If your dad said she's fine is because she is, you can calm down now."

"Then why do I have a feeling they are lying to me? Why do I feel like she only gets worse and because she doesn't want to be a burden, she says everything's alright?"

"Armie, I don't...," he sighs, not really sure of what to say. "I doubt they would lie to you about such a thing. This is pretty serious."

Armie sighs, walks past Timothée and over to the bed, where he throws himself in. He takes in a deep breath, rubs his face and stares into the ceiling, trying his very best to calm down. He hates feeling this desperate and lost, but he also can't stop himself from feeling this way whenever his mother's illness comes back to haunt him. He can't even imagine how life will be without her.

"Armie, we can go back if you want to."

Armie sighs and pushes himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed as Timothée stands a couple of feet away from him, clearly unaware of what to do with himself. It must be hard for him to deal with such a situation when he can barely find the strength to talk about his own feelings.

"She doesn't want me there," he nearly whispers, chuckling slightly at Timothée's confused face. "I told you she keeps saying I don't need to be there all the time and she knows I'm on this trip, which means if I do just appear by her side in a couple of hours, she will feel like she's ruining my life or something."

"What are you doing then?"

"Dad said she's medicated and will be leaving tomorrow morning, so I'll wait to talk to her. If I do notice she's not good, then we'll head back."

"Okay, whatever you want."

"Thanks for understanding."

As Timothée simply nods, Armie throws himself back on the bed, closing his eyes as he tries to fight off tears. He just hopes he is doing the right thing and that in the end, he will have enough time with his mom to let her know how much he loves her.

**  
  
  
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Timothée sits quietly on the old armchair, his legs up and his chin resting on his knees as he stares at Armie, who's asleep in one of the single beds. He sighs, the look on Armie's face when he walked through the door still engraved on his brain. So far Armie had been the cool, collected and cheerful one, so seeing him so vulnerable, with tears filling his eyes and feeling lost left Timothée in a state he couldn't even describe.

He hated the scene, but he hated even more the fact he didn't know how to react to the whole thing. He suppressed so much of himself, keeping his emotions at bay and pushing away anyone and anything that could possibly hurt him or take him out of his comfort zone, and here was Armie once again shaking his world upside down. Because of him, Timothée wanted to find a way to deal with this whole thing, he wanted to help Armie, even if he never really managed to help himself.

He sighs, shakes his head and reaches for his phone before quietly making his way out of the bedroom. He slides down the corridor wall, crosses his legs and dials a number, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Hello, my favorite writer," Zoe's cheerful voice fills his ear after a couple of seconds, bringing a slight smile to his face. "I read the bit you sent me and damn it, Chalamet, I knew you were the right person for the job, it already looks incredible."

"Thanks."

Zoe remains in silence, a low sigh escaping her after a moment.

"What happened?"

"Is it so obvious something happened?"

"Maybe not to everyone, but despite you trying your best to never let out any emotion other than annoyance, I do know you for a couple of years now, so I can tell when you're not on your best. Tell me what is happening."

"How do you know what to say to someone when they are going through a complicated moment? Because right now I feel like helping him, but I don't even know what to say, let alone if I should actually do something concrete that would..."

"I'm lost, what exactly are we talking about?"

"Armie," he sighs, eyes wandering down the corridor as he hears some footsteps. He watches a young girl cross the hallway, her ponytails bouncing from side to side as she follows who he can only imagine to be her mom.

"Timothée?"

"Sorry," he leans his head back on the wall, closes his eyes for a moment and then sighs. "Armie's mom is sick, like a real and serious illness that will definitely kill her in a few months or years. He got a call from his dad today saying she had to be rushed to the hospital and he started freaking out. He kind of blames himself for not being there with her, but he's also mad that she doesn't want him to be there. Is really complicated."

"Oh wow, I did not expect that."

"You can't tell anyone, by the way, he doesn't want people to know about her illness."

"Of course, I won't say anything. But Tim, I don't think anyone ever knows what to say in moments like this, we can only try to be there for the person and help them with whatever they might need. I had a hard time figuring out what to say and do around you in the beginning, because I knew you wanted to keep things to yourself, but I also wanted you to notice I was someone you could rely on."

"So basically you're saying you have no formula for this."

"I doubt anyone has it, Tim. All I can advise you to do is listen to him, make sure he knows you are there for him and that you will support him in whatever he decides to do."

Timothée sighs. This wasn't the answer he was looking forward to and it only made him feel even more scared. He wanted to help Armie, but that seemed a bit difficult when at times he couldn't even help himself.

"Hey Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"It's nice to know you care about this guy enough to try and figure out a way to help him feel better. I know we joked about it, but I wasn't expecting you to actually find love on this trip."

"What? Zoe, this has nothing to do with love. Armie and I are... We are just... We are friends, who happen to have sex, but that's about it."

"Timothée...."

"He's a nice guy and I want to help him, but it doesn't mean anything else. It's just sad seeing him so down about his mother, specially when he's usually so cheerful."

"Timothée..."

"Maybe I should go and try to get some rest."

"I'm sorry," Zoe says, followed by a sigh. "You don't have to hang up just because I said you..."

"Zoe, I'm tired and I should get some rest. I also should check on him and see if he's alright, so I need to go. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, we'll talk later."

Timothée doesn't answer back, he simply hangs up and pushes himself up, heading back inside the bedroom. He stops by the door, staring at Armie, who remains asleep on the bed, his face a lot more peaceful now. Almost like an afterthought, Timothée smiles upon the scene, a weird feeling on the pit of his stomach as he kicks off his shoes and shirt, then walks over to the bed and climbs in, finding comfort in the warmth of Armie's body.

He adjusts himself, trying his best to make sure they both fit in the bed and gently strokes Armie's back, humming on his ear when he moves a little. 

**  
  
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Armie's lips travel through his warm skin, leaving behind a wet trail that shines as the sunlight hits him. The sound of the leaves rustling underneath them, the cool breeze that wraps itself around their bodies as their legs tangle in one another, it all entices Timothée and leaves him craving for more. Desperate to feel every inch of Armie's skin pressed against his.

He cradles his face, pulls him closer and kisses him hard, their tongues dancing together. He runs his fingers through Armie's hair, pulls on it slightly and bites on his lip, smiling as his moan fills the air. They stare at one another for a moment, Armie's thumb caressing his skin.

"I love you," Armie whispers.

Timothée sighs, the words slipping through his lips as a smile takes him over. "I love you, too."

_ I love you _

_ I love you _

_ I love you _

Timothée opens his eyes, breathing heavily and feeling the sweat run down his forehead and back. He blinks a couple of times, his mouth dry and his hands slightly shaky. His eyes wander around the room, spotting Armie by the window, staring down at the street.

He frowns, biting his lip as he recounts the dream, his heart beating faster. He buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths and then raises his gaze once again, smiling slightly as his gaze meets Armie's.

"Hey," he nearly whispers.

"Hey," he whispers back, while adjusting himself on the bed. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Oh," he rubs his eyes, pushes some hair back and gets up, walking over to Armie. He leans against the wall, arms crossed as he tries to read his expression. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Armie reassures him. "I just Skyped my mom, she's already back home and she seems to be feeling good."

"That's a relief."

"Yes, it is."

"So we're not going back to New York earlier?"

"No, we're not. I'm gonna stay here, finish my project and make sure this is my best material yet, because once we're back, I'm gonna work to make this an exhibition in her honor."

Timothée smiles. "That's a beautiful thing to do, Armie."

"I just hope she will have the chance to see it."

"I'm sorry that...," Timothée trails off, his eyes down to his feet as he thinks of what he could say. He sighs, shakes his head and looks back at Armie, who has a slightly confused look upon his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Is just... I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, but I'm often scared of saying something that might actually have the opposite effect."

"Timmy, you don't have to say anything."

"Then why do I feel like I have to?"

"Social conduct tells us we always need to say something to comfort others, but to be quite frank, I doubt there's anything anyone can say at moments like this that truly helps. The best we can do is just be supportive and make sure people know we are here, ready to listen and lay a comforting hand."

Timothée nods, takes a step closer and let's his hand rest on Armie's cheek. "I know I might be a little intense sometimes and I'm not always the most gentle person, but you can count on me for whatever you might need, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Even if you do decide to go back, don't worry about me."

"Thank you, Tim. But I've made up my mind, we're staying and honoring my mom through these photos. I already have an idea of how to do it."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"She loves flowers and there's a place here they call Flowery Farm, so I plan on going there and exploring the place."

"She's gonna love it."

"I hope so," he smiles, before letting out a sigh. "Wanna go have breakfast?"

"Sure, let me just put my clothes on."

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Armie sits quietly on the bench, his camera lying on his lap as his eyes wander around the large park, flowers blooming from every single corner. He takes in a deep breath, doing his very best to put on a smile, clean his head and focus on his job, but nothing seems to work.

He's aware of how this kind of things work though, he's been through days like this before. Actually, they seem to become more and more frequent as the weeks go by and his mother's illness only gets worse. As happy as he is, as much fun as he is having, almost every single hour of the day, there is a part of his brain that can only think of how his life will go on once his mother is no longer around.

They don't talk about her dying, never did, not even when the doctor sat down in front of the three of them and told them there was nothing else they could do for her. They cried together, they held hands, they said everything would be okay and that their family would remain close no matter what, but they never truly approached the subject. As he stops to think about it now, Armie realizes that this is something they definitely need to change and not just because it seems like the right thing to do, but because it feels like the only thing that could actually give him -and his parents- some closure.

He sighs, grabs the camera in his hand and turns it on again, aiming it to a flower near him. He smiles to himself, almost able to hear his mom's soft voice on his ear, saying how much she likes orchids and tulips. He stares down at the small screen, turns on the Bluetooth on the camera and sends some of the photos to his phone so he can show them to his mother. He types down a quick message, sends along with the photos and smiles wide as his mom's reply comes almost instantly.

**_< mom>_ ** _ they are absolutely gorgeous _

_ thank you for thinking of me _

_ i loved it _

**_< armie>_ ** _ im always thinking of you mom _

**_< mom>_ ** _ im always thinking of you too son _

_ i love you more than you will ever imagine _

**_< armie>_ ** _ love you too, mom _

He smiles, locks his phone and places it back in his pocket, turning to his side as he hears footsteps approaching him. He watches in silence as Timothée takes a seat next to him, hands him a large cup of iced tea and nods before taking a few sips.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than I was, that's for sure," he admits. "But there's always the lingering fear that consumes me every time she ends up rushing to the hospital. It's not something you get used to, you just learn how to deal with it, I suppose."

"It must be a terrible feeling," Timothée says while leaning back on the bench. "I mean, my mom and I always had a complicated relationship, but I also can't imagine losing her, you know? No matter how much we argue or how she stresses me out, I love her and it's almost impossible to picture my life without her."

"Why is your relationship with her so complicated?" Armie asks, stealing a quick glance at Timothée, who sighs. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything."

"I'm pretty sure you've noticed from the little bits I said before, but she's extremely overprotective. She always was, but after my father left, I think she wanted to compensate for his absence, but it ended up reaching a point where she was starting to suffocate me. She wanted me by her side all the time, she didn't want me to move away for college and once college was over, she wanted me to go back to her house. I know she wanted what was best for me and in some twisted way she thought overprotecting me was the right thing to do."

"She probably suffered a hell lot with the fact your father left, which made her change her actions towards you and everyone around her. She didn't want to lose you too."

"I know and I tried to explain that to her many times, but she simply wouldn't listen."

Armie sighs, a hand laying on top of Timothée's thigh, which he squeezes gently.

"Parents can be quite complicated, huh? I mean, is either that or we're not supposed to understand their motives until we are actually in their shoes."

"Maybe it's a bit of both?"

"Maybe it's a bit of both," Armie repeats while nodding his head. He bites his lip, looks around the park and then turns to Timothée. "Wanna get out of here? I don't think I'm having a very productive day, so I might as well just get the hell out of here and try to find something else to do."

Timothée nods, pulling himself up and standing his hand out for Armie.

"C'mon, I think there's something we could do that will help you relax a little bit."

"What?"

"Just come with me."

Armie frowns, but nods his head as he gets up and takes Timothée's hand.

"You're very mysterious the past few days, should I be worried?"

As Timothée chuckles, Armie smiles. Maybe all he needs to clear his head is Timothée's company.

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Timothée jumps out of the car, closing the door behind him before he rushes over to the other side of the road, a wide smile on his face as he stops in front of a small building. He looks up at the neon sign, then over his shoulder at Armie, who stands behind him, a frown upon his face.

He smirks, takes a hold of his hand and rushes inside, the door closing behind them with a large thud. He spots the cashier, grabs his wallet and runs over to it, exchanging his money for some coins. Timothée tosses them up and down, before flipping one in Armie's direction, chuckling as he grabs it mid air, shaking his head.

"The arcade?"

"Why so surprised?"

"I just didn't expect..."

"Me to be the kind to have fun?"

Armie shoots him a look and Timothée smirks. "I know you like having fun, I just didn't expect you to bring me to an arcade."

"Do you like the games?" Armie nods, earning a shrug from Timothée. "Then I think this is the perfect place to get your mind off of all the stress you got yourself in the last couple of hours. There's absolutely no way you can stay here and not have some proper fun, even if it's just because someone around you is making a fool of themselves."

"I think you have a very valid point there."

"Good, but be aware this is just a part of my program, I plan on taking us to a karaoke bar afterwards."

"I'm sorry?," Armie asks with eyebrows arched.

"We're going to the karaoke bar down the street afterwards, I heard it is an amazing place and has great songs."

"Nope, I'm not going."

Timothée frowns. "Why not?"

"I don't do karaoke, Timmy."

"Everyone does karaoke, Hammer," Timothée says in a slightly mocking tone. "Besides, if I had to endure a night inside a fucking tent, you can handle a karaoke bar."

"Will you ever let go of that fucking tent?"

"Nope."

Armie stares at him for a second, trying to keep a straight face, but can't help but chuckle, shaking his head.

"You're a tough one, Chalamet."

"Seriously now, why you don't like karaoke?"

"I don't know how to sing, Timmy, what the hell am I gonna do at a karaoke bar?"

"No one knows how to sing there, Armie, and that's exactly why they are there."

"It just..."

"It's nothing," Timothée says quickly, cutting Armie off before he can even think of finishing his sentence. He takes his hand, nods towards a large machine, Street Fighter graphics all over it. He smiles to himself, stops in front of the machine and places a coin inside, watching the graphics on the screen change all of a sudden. "Are you joining me or what?"

"Are you any good at this?"

"Are you?"

"Lee had one of these in his house and we used to play every single weekend."

"That doesn't mean you're good at it."

"Getting feisty, aren't you?"

"You've seen nothing, Hammer."

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The chorus starts and people all around the bar suddenly join in, singing along to the lyrics and creating a beautiful mix of voices that fill the air. Sitting on a small table by the corner, secluded by the dark lights of the room, Armie has his elbow on the table, a smirk on his face as he watches Timothée on stage, his curls bouncing around as he puts on a performance.

Of all things that would bring out the most carefree side of him, Armie didn't really expect karaoke to be the most effective. But low and behold, there he was, singing his heart out, busting some moves and swooning the crowd with his charm. The more he gets to know him, the more interesting and exciting he seems.

"Hey, can I get two more, please," he says while raising his glass, earning a quick nod from the waiter.

He turns his attention back to Timothée, who's just finishing his song and claps along with the crowd. He leans back on his seat, arms crossed and a serious look upon his face as his eyes follow Timothée back to their table.

"That was quite impressive."

"Well, thank you very much."

"I didn't expect you to like karaoke so much, but I guess there's still a lot about you I need to figure out, huh?"

Timothée shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a complex man, Hammer."

"You really are, which is a very exciting thing."

"Is it?"

Armie simply nods, a little smile on his face as Timothée stares at him in complete silence. He arches an eyebrow in question and watches as Timothée smiles, leaning a bit closer.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I am, actually. You helped me make this day a lot better than I expected to be, so I thank you for that."

"I'm glad I was able to help in any way, even if I'm not the most comforting person in the world."

"I think you are. Actually, I think you are a lot more than you give yourself credit for, and I hope one day you'll realize the incredible man you are."

Timothée swallows dryly, blinks a couple of times and then sighs, not really sure of how to react to such words.

"You don't need to say all these things, Hammer, I'm already sleeping with you."

_ Of course he's gonna go that route _ , Armie thinks while smiling softly at him. It would be stupid to expect anything else from him, but Armie still finds it extraordinary how easily Timothée can close himself up.

"You know that's not the reason why I said it, I did it because it's true and you should believe it."

"Your drinks," the voice interrupts, causing both of them to lean back. Armie looks over at the waiter, nods his head and reaches for a glass, raising it in Timothée's direction before taking a sip.

For now it might be better if he simply drops the subject. He doesn't want Timothée to feel uncomfortable. 


	19. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're actually falling for this guy, aren't we?

Armie scrolls through some of the photographs on his laptop, squinting his eyes as he focuses on each one of them. He clicks in one in particular, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips as a sigh escapes him. He stares at the photo for a long moment, his eyes wandering to every single detail in Timothée's delicate and yet strong face.

His eyes are mesmerizing, his curls illuminated by the sunlight and the little smile on his face nearly makes Armie lose his breath. He moves to the next photo, another close up of Timothée, only this time he looks a lot more serious, his eyes down and the shadows of a tree creating a beautiful detail on his cheeks.

Armie takes a breath, closes the program and swiftly opens Skype, clicking on Taylor's name and waiting for him to answer it. He leans back on the chair, his feet up on the small bench in front of him, his fingers tapping on the chair's arms as he patiently waits.

When his friend's face comes to view, he gives him a little wave, noticing the trees and bright blue sky behind him. Taylor was actually out of the house, under the Sun, which was extremely unusual for him and nearly made Armie scared.

"Are you out in the Sun? How long have I been away?"

"Hello to you too, Hammer, is nice to see your face after such a long time."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "It's nice to see you too, man. Sorry I haven't been contacting you guys that much, I'm just a bit..."

"Busy?," Lee interrupts, pushing Taylor to the side so they can share the screen. "Your new boyfriend keeps you tired? I never thought you'd be the one to leave your friends behind just because you found someone new, Hammer. I'm disappointed."

"And that's exactly why I don't contact you guys more often," Armie mumbles, shaking his head as his friends laugh. "He's not my boyfriend, by the way, we're just friends."

"We are just friends, Armie," Taylor says with a smirk. "You and that guy are clearly something else."

"Maybe," he admits. "But we're definitely not dating. Timothée is an amazing guy, but he doesn't really do relationships and even if we're having a lot of fun together, I always feel like he is on the verge of running away from me any second."

A moment of silence follows, Lee and Taylor exchanging a quick look before turning their attention back to Armie, confused looks on their faces.

"Just say it, guys."

"Why are you putting yourself through this if you know the guy is a liability?"

"Taylor," Lee mumbles, shaking his head.

"What? I'm genuinely interested here, okay? Scarlett clearly wants something with him and he has never even considered dating the girl, but this guy is worth a try? I don't get it."

"I thought out of the three of us, you were supposed to be the genius."

Taylor frowns, stares at Lee for a moment and then cocks his eyebrow, turning to face Armie, who remains quiet.

"You're in love with the guy, aren't you?"

Armie sighs, eyes down as he feels the intense stare of his friends. Suddenly he feels like closing the lid of the laptop and just running away, but he knows it wouldn't really do any good. His friends know him well and wouldn't let the subject go so easily.

"You're not even gonna try to deny it?"

"What's the point, Taylor?"

Lee sighs, leaning closer to the screen. "Look, we don't really know what is going on over there, but if you guys are having fun and getting along, just let it happen. Don't overthink it, don't push him, just wait and see what life has in store for you guys."

"Are you fucking serious? He already said the guy doesn't do relationships."

"People change, Taylor. Besides, if he allowed himself to get involved with someone he's stuck with for days, then maybe a part of him might actually want a relationship."

"I just don't think it's..."

"Guys?," Armie says a little bit louder than usual, trying to catch their attention. "Can we just drop this subject, please? Is not really why I called anyway."

"Why did you call?," they both ask in unison.

"I have a delivery coming in tomorrow and I need someone to be in the house to sign it," he explains. "It would be nice to check on Archie too, you know?"

"We've been checking on Archie every single day, you don't have to worry about that," Taylor winks. "I actually think he likes us more than he likes you."

"Fuck you."

"No need to worry, bro," Lee cuts in. "I'll stop there tomorrow and wait for the package."

"Thanks, I truly...," he trails off as he hears the door opening and looks over his shoulder, an immediate smile on his lips as he sees Timothée walk in.

"Yo? Did this shit freeze or are you just..."

Both Lee and Taylor lean back as they see Timothée show up behind Armie, his curls falling down his forehead and a shy smile on his face as he waves.

"Guys, this is Timothée. Timothée these are my friends, Lee and Taylor."

"It's nice to finally meet you guys, I've heard quite a few things about you two."

"All lies," they say it together, making Timothée laugh.

"Seriously though, don't believe him, he lies a lot."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't listen to them, please."

"Do listen to us, Timothée, we know him better than anyone and..."

Armie quickly ends the call, biting his lip as the screen goes back to black and Timothée laughs.

"They were being stupid for way too long already."

"Isn't that how friends...," Timothée stops, his eyes locked on the laptop screen. "When did you take this?"

Armie looks back at the laptop, only then realizing the program with Timothée's photo had been left open and now his photo took over the whole screen.

"A few days ago."

"How did... I didn't even notice."

"Most of them you didn't."

"Most of them? You mean there's more?"

Armie shrugs. "There might be a whole file with photos of you."

Timothée blinks, trying to come up with words.

"It's so creepy it left you speechless," Armi mumbles.

"It's not creepy, it's just... I don't know, unexpected."

"Why? I said before how photogenic you are."

"Yeah, but I didn't...," Timothée sighs, bites on his lip and then sits on the arm of the chair, his arm wrapped around Armie's shoulder. "Can I see them?"

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Timothée smiles, his greenish eyes locked on Armie, who's on the other side of the street, kneeling down on the floor as he talks to a few kids. There are at least ten of them surrounding him, all part of a children's theater club, that performs in the town square once every two months. They are all in costumes, their giggles echoing in the sunny afternoon, while their parents and relatives sit around, waiting for them to start.

Completely unplanned, they both stopped by the square, talked to the families and the coordinator of the theater and in a matter of minutes Armie ended up becoming the event's new photographer. Another testament to how charming Armie is and how easily he can make friendships. Timothée chuckles as one of the kids lands a hand on Armie's shoulder, a serious look on his face as he explains something. Armie nods, amusing the kid, who points at the camera as if he was the real photographer.

There's the sound of a trumpet and suddenly all the kids run away from Armie, joining their teacher at the center of the square, where a small stage is set. Timothée crosses the street, leans closer to a tree and silently watches as the play comes to life, the kids putting on their very best to entertain family and friends. Meanwhile, Armie makes his way around, snapping photos of every kid and every parent, creating what Timothée can only expect is a beautiful mosaic of proud parents and equally proud children, who sing, dance and act.

His eyes wander to Armie once more, watching as the smile on his face grows with each photograph he takes. Timothée has to admit, he has never seen someone so passionate about something, someone who loves their job so much that seems to radiate a completely different energy while doing so. He was always excited, passionate and fully involved in what he was doing, but when he had his camera in his hands, everything was enhanced.

_ We're actually falling for this guy, aren't we?  _ He sighs, pushing the thought away as he walks even closer, taking a seat in one of the benches. He crosses his arm, smiles wide as the kids start singing in chorus, their parents holding out their tears and Armie documenting everything. The whole scene actually does make him think life in a small town wouldn't be so bad, but Timothée doubts he could ever leave New York behind.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and reaches out for it. He unlocks it, a message from Chris coming to the screen almost instantly.

**_< chris>_ ** _ how u doing lazy ass? _

_ havent heard from u in about two days _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ im doing alright _

_ we had some rough days _

_ but things turned for the better _

**_< chris>_ ** _ u and armie having problems? _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ more like i had my problems _

_ then he had his own issues to deal with _

_ nothing for u to worry about tho _

_ we good _

**_< chris>_ ** _ ok _

_ when you get back? _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ in two days _

As he hits send, Timothée hears footsteps and looks up, watching as Armie approaches him and nearly plows down next to him on the bench. He doesn't say a word, simply sighs and nudges him gently, his big blue eyes wandering to him afterwards.

"These kids are so cute," Timothée says, crossing his arms and adjusting himself on the bench until he is almost lying on it. "Some of them are really talented too."

"They really are," Armie agrees, nodding his head. "And they were so excited to have their photos taken, apparently they only ever had a professional photographer once."

"Are you gonna give them the photos?"

Armie nods. "I talked to the teacher, he told me about this place where I can get the photos developed. I'll stop by in a while and then give them to him, I'm sure the parents are gonna love it."

"They will, you did a great job."

"How do you know?"

"I have a feeling."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, I have a feeling."

Armie turns to his side, right leg tucked under his left one while his hand gently brushes against Timothée's hair.

"You've got feelings about anything else?"

Timothée smirks, leaning closer to Armie, their noses about to touch. "I have many feelings, Hammer, doesn't mean I'll be telling you any of them."

"And why is that?"

"Maybe because it is a lot more interesting if I just... I don't know, show you?"

"And what are you gonna show me?"

A mischievous smile appears on Timothée's face and he gestures for Armie to come closer, whispering something in his ear, which makes Armie smirk. They both lean backwards, eyes locked as Timothée wiggles his eyebrows and Armie nods slowly.

"I like your idea, Chalamet."

"Good to know," he winks and then turns back to the children, while Armie wraps an arm around his shoulder.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

The steak and burger house was more like a garage, which its owners successfully turned into an extremely hyped establishment, attracting not only the locals, but also tourists that were in town, which spread around the dozens of tables scattered on the wooden floor, all of them with graffiti decorating them.

On the small counter, which only had space for six stools, were Timothée and Armie, who had his hand resting above his thigh, squeezing it softly from time to time. As they wait for their burgers to arrive, they laugh and talk, whispering back and forth on each other´s ear.

To anyone on the outside, it would seem like a surprise to hear that they had met less than a month ago, because the intimacy and connection between them was nearly palpable and quite frankly electrifying. They were like puzzle pieces, completing one another and helping each other see a side of the world that they normally wouldn´t. Through Timothée, Armie could understand a bit more about the effects of abandonment; while through Armie, Timothée could explore a carefree life that he only ever wished he could have.

They still had many differences, that is true, but those differences were somehow bringing them together as they days went by. And each day together was even more thrilling than the previous one, which only made them earn even more for what was about to come.

"No way, you´re out of your mind."

"No, I´m not."

"Timothée, there´s no way that happened."

"Oh my God, are you fucking blind?"

"No, I just don´t...," he trails off as Timothée shoots him a look. "I honestly didn´t notice anything."

"For fuck´s sake, Hammer, the woman was nearly drooling. She honestly couldn´t take her eyes off of you and I´m pretty sure everyone noticed, including her husband, which was making things quite a bit uncomfortable."

"I don´t believe in you."

"Then don´t, but what I´m saying is the truth. She was gawking at you like you were her prey, as if she was just about to jump on you and rip off your clothes right there. Which I´m assuming would be the highlight of the day for those people, no one would even remember the kid´s play."

"Stop it," Armie says, his cheeks a bright shade of pink.

"Oh, you´re actually blushing."

"Seriously, just stop."

"Oh my God, you´re blushing, this is adorable."

Armie rolls his eyes, grabbing a hold of his beer and taking a few sips of it as Timothée leans closer to him, his hand sneaking inside his shirt, while his lips brush against his earlobe. Armie shivers from head to toe, not only from his actions, but also because he is doing this in an open space and clearly doesn´t seem to mind one bit. He absolutely loves all sides of Timothée, but the spontaneous and risky one might be one of his top favorites.

"You´re sexy when you blush," he whispers, biting on Armie´s ear afterwards.

"You think so?"

"I´m sure so."

"In that case, I´ll make sure to blush more often."

"I´d love that," he traces his lip with his tongue, eyes roaming down Armie´s body as he gently pushes down the neckline of his shirt, exposing a bit of chest hair. His eyes wander back to Armie and smirks, loving the expression on his face, which is a perfect mix of arousal and surprise.

"You´re a savage, Chalamet."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Definitely."

"I like it very much then."

Armie scoffs, shakes his head and closes the gap between them, placing a short kiss on his lips. They hear someone cough and part ways, looking to the side to catch the waiter there, a little embarrassed look upon his face as he slides the two plates in their direction.

"Sorry to interrupt, but here is your order."

"Thanks," Timothée says between chuckles. He turns back to Armie, now his cheek slightly flushed, which makes him laugh. "That was slightly embarrassing."

"Oh, now you´re embarrassed? You were nearly shoving your hand inside my shirt, but a kiss and you´re embarrassed?"

"I´m a complex man, Hammer."

"Yeah, right."

"C´mon, let's eat this because I still want to hit that club we saw on our way here."

Armie nods and turns back to his burger, his free hand going back to Timothée´s thigh, squeezing it softly. He smiles to himself when Timothée rests his hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together for a brief moment.

They mainly remain in silence for the next couple of minutes, only breaking the silence to praise the burger, which to them seems to be one of the best ones they ever had. After about an hour and a couple more beer bottles, they exit the small steak house and head down the street, the moonlight shining on them.

They laugh, Armie´s arm wrapped around Timothée´s waist, keeping their bodies close. They whisper in each other´s ear, stumble around the sidewalk and cheekily make comments about the people that pass them by.

Once inside the club, the music loud and the lights dancing around, they hit the dance floor straight away, Timothée swinging his body side to side as he wraps an arm around Armie´s neck. He laughs as Armie tries to move along with him, amused and yet quite happy to actually find something the man isn´t exactly good at. He was becoming way too perfect to be true.

They dance for hours, swinging their bodies from side to side, hands sliding down each other´s bodies, lips moving along in heated kisses. Armie´s fingers knot on Timothée´s hair, intensifying the kiss with each second, his large hand resting on his lower back, inches away from actually groping his ass, which much to his surprise he manages to keep himself from doing.

By the time they leave the club is nearly two in the morning and in the middle of the way, they turn back around and head over to the park, lying down on the grass as the fresh air hits them and the stars illuminate their skin.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

It was almost four in the morning when the elevator door opened and they stepped out of it, stumbling around the dark and quiet hallway. Their arms were wrapped around one another, their lips moving together like in an angry and sensual tango, the sweat that slowly coated their bodies making everything a lot messier, dirtier and sexier.

They break apart to search for the keys, opening the front door to the apartment as quickly as they possibly can, letting it slam shut behind them afterwards. Almost instantly, Armie is pushed against the wall, his breathing heavy as Timothée trails down his neck and shoulder, kissing, licking and biting on it, while his warm hand sneaks inside his jeans and palms him through his boxers.

He throws his head back, low moans escaping through parted lips as Timothée rubs his hardening cock, drops of precum slowly sliding down his shaft. He takes a hold of Timothée's hair, brings his face closer to his and kisses him hard, loving how he matches the movement of his hand to their kiss. He pulls on his bottom lip, hears the long moan that escapes Timothée and smirks, knowing full well he is just as desperate as he is, maybe even more.

"Turn around," Timothée says breathlessly.

"Bossy, huh?"

"C'mon, Hammer, turn around."

Armie chuckles, steals one quick kiss from Timothée and then removes his shirt, throwing it to the ground before he can unzip his jeans. He raises his gaze to Timothée, who is staring at him with lustful eyes, his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth and his cheeks flushed. Armie hooks his fingers on the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them off, taking pleasure in teasing Timothée, who seems so eager that he can't even stand still.

The moment his boxers hit the floor, Timothée is all over him again, kissing his skin, running his fingers through his chest hair and grinding his body against his as much as he possibly can, his hard cock rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. He moans as Timothée's hand slides down his back, takes a hold of his asscheeks and squeezes them.

"Turn around," Timothée repeats it, his lips pressed against Armie's.

This time Armie doesn't say anything, nor does he mock Timothée, he simply turns around and opens his legs, shivering as Timothée's nails drags through his skin all the way to his ass. He gasps as he feels his hot breathing against his crack, the tension and the anticipation for the next step driving him crazy. When he actually does feel Timothée's tongue pressing against his hole, Armie leans his forehead against the wall and bites hard on his lip, preventing himself from moaning too loud.

He closes his eyes, lets his body relax and the waves of pleasure to wash over him. He's burning, the sweat dripping down his body, his legs trembling, but all he can think of is Timothée's skillful tongue probing and circling his hole. He grunts, pushes his ass back and lets a hand slide down his torso, his fingers playing with his own pubic hair before he actually wraps them around his hard cock and gives it a couple of strokes.

Timothée's movements grow more eager and he alternates from rimming him, to biting his cheeks, stroking his inner thighs and sucking on his balls. Armie feels almost lightheaded, so much pleasure washing over him he even has trouble standing up. He gasps for air, reaches back and knots his fingers inside Timothée's curls, encouraging him to continue, even though he knows there's no need for such a thing. None of them plans on stopping this any time soon.

With his hand plastered on the wall and his back arched, Armie moans Timothée's name repeatedly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. He feels his hand reach up, cup his balls for a moment and then take a tight hold of his cock, stroking it rapidly. The double stimulation only makes Armie's moans grow louder and as much as he tries to hold on a little longer, he simply can't take it and within seconds his body trembles, his knees give out and he grunts, leaning his head against the wall. They haven't even reached the bedroom and Armie has already orgasmed once.

He turns around with a lazy smile on his face, his chest hair shining with sweat while his eyes instantly go down to Timothée, who sits on his knees staring up at him. The sight is nearly too much, his hair is all over the place, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are shiny and puffed. Debauched is not enough of a word to describe what Armie thinks when he looks down at him. 

It takes him a moment, but once he feels like he looked enough to keep the image registered in his mind for eternity, Armie gently takes a hold of his arm and pulls him up. He pushes some of his curls back, a warm and contagious smile on his face. He takes a hold of his shirt, pulls it off of him and tosses to the ground, before his fingers find the zipper of his jeans, which he swiftly unzips as his lips trace down his neck and jaw, leaving a wet trail and bite marks all over his skin.

Timothée's moans fill the air when his hand takes a hold of his cock, stroking it as slowly as he possibly can, his thumb eventually brushing against the bulbous head, which is leaking precum like crazy. He smiles to himself, lifts his chin and presses their foreheads together, a thumb stroking his cheek. Without saying a word to each other, they lean closer, a sweet kiss being shared as Armie slides both his hands down Timothée's back and grabs onto his ass, pulling him up and forcing his legs around his hips.

A giggle escapes Timothee at the sudden movement, his arms tightly wrapped around his neck as he walks around the small apartment, his strong arms securing Timothée until they make it to the bathroom and under the shower. The water is cold, but they are so caught up in their own little world they couldn't care less, their hot bodies only aching for more contact, more kisses and the sweet release they both know is coming soon.

Timothée buries his face in the crook of his neck, while Armie, ever so gently, guides his cock to his hole. They both moan when the head slides in, the tightness of Timothée mixed with Armie's size sending shivers down both of their spine. They both had a fair share of lovers, some better than others, but there is not denying that their bodies fit together in a completely different way. They are like magnets, pulling each other closer with each passing second; pieces that only side by side can bring the whole puzzle to life. They complement each other in ways none of them really expected, and not only when it comes to sex. Even if sex is the moment this is more highlighted.

Armie moans, a hand pressed against the tiled wall as he moves his hips forward, thrusting into Timothée, their wet bodies rubbing together. He closes his eyes shut, through his parted lips, low grunts escaping him mixed with Timothée's name. As his teeth bite into his skin and his nails drag along his back, Armie already finds himself on the verge of another orgasm.

His thrusts become more powerful, his grip on Timothée stronger, and the smile on his face as he moans his name repeatedly only seems to grow. A minute or two go by, their breathing gets shallower, their movements errant and their kiss sloppier. It doesn't take long for Timothée to tremble from head to toe, his head thrown back as cum erupts from his cock and coats both of their stomachs.

Armie looks down in between them, smiles and slows down his thrusts until he is nearly about to pull out, only to be stopped by Timothée. They lock eyes, their silence saying everything it needs to be said, so when Timothée nods slowly, the wet curls falling down his forehead, Armie gently pushes all of his cock back in and gives it a couple more thrusts, feeling himself explode shortly after, his cum filling up Timothée and making him moan loud, his head resting upon his shoulder.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

****  
  


The curtains are open, the moonlight and the cool breeze coming through the windows. The bed sheets are scattered on the floor, along with clothes and towels. Their breathing is soft now, their legs tangled as Armie lies on the bed and Timothée nearly climbs on top of him, his head resting on his shoulder as his fingers gently trace up and down his torso.

Chuckles echo in the rather quiet room, their voices low as they talk rubbish, make up jokes and poke fun at one another. It feels good to be with someone they can laugh of and with, someone who fully understands -and appreciates- their humor. That paired with the undeniable chemistry between them was everything anyone could ever ask for; a relationship that was more than just sex, even if they wouldn't admit themselves. It was about finding one another, figuring out bits on the other that made their own life more meaningful and fun.

Timothée raises his gaze, Armie's short beard tickling his forehead, although he doesn't mind, he actually absolutely loves the feel of it. He rests his hand on his chest hair, loving the soft touch of it against his palm and swiftly kisses just above Armie's nipple, which earns him a heavy sigh and an ass squeeze. Their eyes meet, cocky smiles on their faces as Armie leans closer, planting a kiss on his lips while pushing some of his curls back.

Timothée slides his hand to Armie's face, cradling it as he intensifies the kiss, nearly climbing on top of Armie. When they pull away, breathless and flushed, Timothée rolls back down to the bed, a sigh escaping him. He feels whole, happy and distant from any worry he might have had. It's strange, he never felt like this before, but it also comes with the realization that this is what he always wanted to feel.

He closes his eyes, absorbed in all the happiness he is feeling and grins when Armie's lips find solace in his neck, kissing and licking it. His hand travels to his hair, which he grips on it and forces Armie to face him, capturing his puffed lips in a heated kiss. Their bodies move together, their hands explore each other's skin, their low moans mix it up to become a beautiful and melodic symphony.

They roll around on the bed, messing up the sheets and tangling themselves in a way it would be nearly impossible to tell who's who, if it wasn't for the beautiful contrast of their skin tones. Armie pulls on Timothée's lip, bites down his shoulder, tugs on his curls and moans against his ear. Timothée scratches his back, slaps his ass cheeks and shoves his tongue inside his mouth, devouring him with an animalistic hunger.

Minutes past, but it honestly feels like seconds to them, because no matter how long they are together, it never seems like time enough. They kiss, grope each other, make out and edge each other to the brick of an orgasm again, stopping whenever they realize they are about to cum. They laugh, wrestle and tickle one another; just two carefree men giving in to all the emotions that fill their bodies whenever they come together.

When they end up falling down the bed to the floor, Timothée stays on top of Armie, laughing hysterically as Armie does the same, his large hands protectively resting on his waist. He sighs, content and joyful, rests his head on Armie's chest and closes his eyes, a soft smile appearing on his face when he hears Armie hum some song on his ear. He relaxes his body, his finger stroking Armie's side as they both drift off to sleep. 


	20. The Finest Piece Of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the good, the bad and the breakdowns.

The sheets cover only half of Timothée´s body, his naked back exposed as he lies sound asleep on the bed. Gently, Armie traces his fingers across the freckles on his back, going all the way down to the curve of his ass and then back to the top, brushing a couple of curls to the side. He smiles, completely enamored by not only the sight of Timothée, but also his smell, the warmth and curves of his body; never has he ever felt something like this before, be so completely drawn to someone that every single aspect of their existence brings a smile to your face. Even his grumpiness is amusing to Armie.

He leans down, placing a couple of kisses down his spine, hearing as his breathing gets a bit louder and shivers creep up on his body. He moves closer, their bodies now nearly pressed as his lips trace Timothée´s shoulder and eventually reach his ear, nibbling on it gently.  _ Oh, he's awake _ , he thinks to himself when he hears a soft giggle escape Timothée. With a smirk, Armie nibbles on his ear again, while his hand slides under the sheets and squeezes his asscheeks.

Timothée moans softly and Armie rolls him over, their eyes locking immediately. He winks, leans down and places a soft kiss on his cheek before staring down at him as if he was the finest piece of art in the world; and to be completely honest, in some ways he was, at least to Armie. He holds tight onto his waist, swings a leg over his body and straddles him, laughing as Timothée pretends to gasp for air.

Without saying a word, Armie reaches for his phone on the nightstand and opens his camera, aiming down at Timothée, who tries his best to hide himself. Armie puts his hand down, tickles him and eventually pins his arms above his head with one hand, while the other works the camera with strange ease. Timothée pokes his tongue out, removes his hand from his grip and tries to grab the phone, only to groan when Armie raises his arm and keeps it above his own head.

"Stop it, Hammer."

"Why should I?"

"I just woke up, for fuck´s sake."

"And yet you look absolutely stunning."

"Well, you clearly need to see a doctor, because your eyesight is shit."

"I beg to differ," he says while snapping yet another photo, chuckling as he sees the result. "You´re the best model I ever had."

"I´m not your model."

"Considering the amount of photos I have of you by now, I say you truly are my model."

Timothée rolls his eyes, tries to fight off Armie, but laughs as he keeps his hand down and snaps photo after photo of him. Armie pokes his tongue, leans down and swiftly kisses him again, not losing the opportunity to take a photo of them.

"You´re addicted to this, aren´t you?"

"Well, this is my job," he shrugs, looks down at the photo and smiles before showing it to Timothée. "It actually looks quite good."

"Are you gonna frame it?," he mocks.

"Maybe I should send it to my parents."

"Oh yeah, and make sure to add a nice little caption. Maybe something like, hey dad this is the guy I´m fucking."

"I can be a lot more gentle than that," he says between laughter. "Not that my mom wasn´t already expecting to hear this from me."

Timothée frowns, clearly confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, my mom kind of said that no matter how professional we were on this trip, it was only a matter of time until we ended up in bed together."

"Huh," he nods, a curious look on his face. "It seems to me you´re more of a whore than I had predicted, Hammer."

"How dare you?," he says while clutching his heart, feigning pain. "I´m a gentleman and I´d like you to appreciate that."

"No gentleman would do the things you did to me yesterday."

"I didn´t see you complaining," he winks as Timothée laughs and pulls him closer, his hands sliding to the back of his neck, his fingers playing with his hair. He stares down at him for a moment, thumb gently stroking his cheek until he pecks his lips repeatedly, earning a small giggle. "You´re so beautiful."

"Stop saying that."

"Why? I´m only speaking the truth."

"It´s just embarrassing."

"A compliment shouldn´t make you embarrassed, specially not one like this. You are beautiful and intelligent, stylish and can even be funny if you try really hard."

"Fuck you," he hits Armie´s chest. "I´m super funny."

"Super funny is a stretch, Timmy, but you do have some sense of humour."

"That´s it, not more kisses to you."

Armie cocks his eyebrows and Timothée pushes him away, sitting on the bed and pushing the sheets over his body. Swiftly, Armie wraps his strong arms around his waist, pulling him back and on top of him, laughing as Timothée tries to break free. He rolls them over, pins him down underneath him and holds onto his wrists, his nose brushing softly against his arm, just above his armpit, causing Timothée to giggle and thrash under him.

"Done fighting?," Armie wiggles his brows as Timothée relaxes his body, his thighs pressed against his hips.

"What´s the point anyway?"

As Armie smirks, Timothée slides his hand down his sides and holds tight onto his waist, rolling them over once more. He straddles Armie, hands resting on his chest as he smirks down at him.

"But this morning, I´m the one making you scream."

"I´d like to see you try."

He grabs onto Armie´s cock and leans down, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"You´re in for a treat, Hammer."

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

Armie steps out of the shower, water dripping down his body as he stands in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. There's a different aura around him even he can tell, something different in his eyes and the way he smiles; all of those things are a reflection of his feelings for Timothée, of that he is sure, even if he is still doing everything he can to keep himself together. He doesn't want to scare him off, but he also doesn't know for how long he can be nonchalant about the way he is feeling.

He's in love, of that he is sure, and he would like the whole world to know.

He chuckles to himself, not really able to remember ever feeling this way before. Timothée had swept him off of his feet and he couldn't wait to see where those feelings would take him. He takes a deep breath, reaches for the towel and dries himself off, before tying around his waist.

As he steps out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately wander to Timothée, who's sitting in bed, arms behind his head and eyes stuck to the ceiling. Hearing his footsteps, he looks over and smiles, a little mischievous one as he usually does. Armie winks, walks to the small couch by his left and goes through his bags, finding harder every day to find clean clothes.

"I'm going out for a bit, check on that little mall we saw last night, maybe get my mom something," he looks over his shoulder. "Wanna join me?"

"I'm not really in the mood."

"So what, you're spending the whole day in bed?"

Timothée shrugs. "I don't see why not. The bed is comfortable, there's air conditioner and hundreds of channels on the tv. If you were as smart as I am, you would actually join me."

Armie turns to face him, hands on his hips and a frown upon his face. As Timothée smirks, Armie can't help but chuckle. He throws the t-shirt he was holding to the side, walks over to the bed and climbs on top of him, laughing as Timothée sneakily tries to get away from him. He pins his hands down though, kissing him quickly before pressing their foreheads together.

"You're trying to seduce me, Chalamet?"

"I don't know. Is it working?"

"A little bit," he admits as Timothée wiggles his brows. "But I seriously need to go out, I need to develop some photos from the analog camera and my mom will honestly kill me if I get back without something to her."

"Do you always buy her something?"

He nods. "It kind of became our little tradition."

"That's sweet."

"I'm sure you and your mom also have some small traditions."

"Does arguing count?," he asks with a cocked eyebrow.

"Oh, c'mon."

"I told you, Hammer, my relationship with my mom is rather complicated. I mean, I love her, I understand why she acted the way she did, but it's not an easy relationship still."

"Well, you still have time to change that. You're young and I am sure the day you two sit down to discuss this, you'll find a way."

"Maybe."

Armie smiles, pecks his lips and then pulls himself up, searching around the room for his clothes. He grabs the shirt from the ground and puts it on, followed by his I boxers and jeans.

"You sure you don't wanna join me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stay here, take a shower and maybe read something. We'll go out later."

"Okay then, I'll see you in a bit," he kisses him quickly, tucking a few curls behind his ear. "Text me if you happen to change your mind."

He nods, a hand sliding inside Armie's short hair. "Will do."

Armie winks, grabs his camera bag and swings it over his shoulder, heading out of the bedroom. He closes the door behind him, a large smile on his face and heads down the corridor. Life is good.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

Timothée sits alone on a bench in the middle of the square, a pen and a notebook sitting on his lap, while his eyes remain focused on the couple sitting on the opposite side. They have been whispering back and forth for a couple of minutes now, fingers intertwined and large smiles on their faces. They look at ease with one another, a couple that clearly has been together for a while now and which has reached quite an intense level of intimacy.

Like it often happens when he sees one of those, Timothée just can't avert his eyes from them, on his mind one single thought. Will he ever be able to achieve something like that? Sure, him and Armie have been developing quite an interesting, intense and fun relationship, but they've only known each other for two weeks and shared their very first kiss just five days ago. Things could easily evolve, that's true, but Timothée is also one hundred percent aware that deep within him there is still a huge amount of fear. Fear of commitment, fear of being left once again, fear of giving too much of himself to someone only to have his heart broken.

All those thoughts still haunt him, no matter how incredible it feels to be with Armie, no matter how free he feels whenever they are talking and laughing. His walls are still there, closing in on him, keeping him from moving forward and at certain moments in his life, Timothée can't help but feel like he has lost control of them.

"Hey there," the voice startles him, but the moment Timothée turns to the side, a smile spreads across his lips. "I came back to the hotel and you weren't there, then I saw your note. Is everything okay?"

Timothée simply nods and watches as Armie circles the bench to sit next to him, their legs pressed together as he rests his arm around his shoulders. It feels nice to have someone care about you enough to be worried. Not that his friends don't care, because he knows they do, but there's something about the soft tone in Armie's voice as he said those words that tell Timothée his worry is different somehow.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Hammer, you don't have to worry," he reassures Armie while landing a hand on his thigh. "I was trying to write something, but as it usually happens lately, I couldn't even work on a single paragraph, so I decided to take a walk and see if I got any inspiration."

"And did you?"

"Absolutely none," he sighs. "All I did was sit here and stare at the locals like a fucking stalker."

Armie chuckles and gently squeezes his shoulder, all the hairs on his body standing up at the simple action.  _ God, this guy got you completely head over heels, huh? _ He bites his lip, the thought alone bringing back all those fears. A part of him wants to run away immediately.

"You're not a stalker," Armie says while sporting his ever so charming smile. "Maybe a bit of a creep, but not a full on stalker."

"Oh, thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

"No problem, you can always count on me."

"Idiot," he nudges Armie, a small chuckle escaping him before he sighs, his eyes wandering down to his notebook. "But honestly, I sometimes feel like I've completely lost the ability to write. I have been struggling to do something worth reading for months now, which is driving me insane."

"I think you might need to take a step back."

"No, I can't do that. I can barely get a paragraph done now, if I take a step back might as well just give up completely."

"Don't be so drastic, Timmy."

"I'm just being honest. I have managed to power through articles the last couple of months, but every single day that passes, I feel more like a failure. My pieces have not been as good as they used to be, I can't seem to write the one thing I've always wanted to and I just..."

He sighs, leaning forward as he buries his face in his hands. He didn't expect this conversation to turn into this, but the truth was, he was reaching a point that he couldn't keep the frustration he was feeling only to himself any longer. He needed to say something out loud, even if there was no one around him to listen.

"Hey," he feels Armie's hand in his back and takes a breath, looking at him over his shoulder. Thankfully he had found someone who was more than willing to listen. "Tim, you can't be so hard on yourself. I get that things might be complicated and you might not see a light at the end of the tunnel right now, but you have a gift, a talent that doesn't simply run out."

"I'm not sure I have this talent everyone thinks I do, otherwise I would know what the fuck I need to do to change this situation."

"Timothée, we don't always get the answers to our questions. To be quite frank with you, I feel like we're constantly wondering what the hell to do with ourselves, and I don't mean that only professionally."

Timothée sighs, a desperation look upon his face.

"It's okay to feel lost sometimes."

"Have you ever felt like this?"

"Almost every day?," Armie admits as Timothée shakes his head. "I mean it, okay? There are days I stop and wonder if I'm taking the right path in life, or if I settled for photography way too young and didn't even explore other possible options. I wonder if I should just give up on everything in Brooklyn and go stay with my parents while I still have my mom around. I wonder if I'll ever be able to find myself someone who I truly love and want to share my life with. I have questions popping up in my head every two seconds."

"Well, you handle them a lot better than I do."

"We are not the same person, so obviously we're gonna deal with things in a different way. But if I'm being honest, judging by everything I've learned of you the last three weeks, I think the fact you're talking about these insecurities of yours is quite a step."

Timothée remains quiet for a moment, but then nods, aware Armie is right. The walls are indeed still up, but there seems to be a crack on them, through which he is slowly crawling off of it. The question is, will he be able to get rid of them before it's too late?

"I'm sorry," he finally says as Armie frowns. "This whole conversation is such a mood killer. I mean, we had a great morning and now I'm just ruining everything by..."

"Okay, you have to stop now. Are you seriously apologizing for actually sharing what you're feeling?"

"I simply don't want to be the person who is constantly bringing the mood down, Armie."

"Tim, you're being honest and open with me, that's all I could ever ask for. You shouldn't apologize for saying what you feel, you're not doing anything wrong."

"It feels wrong when you're not exactly used to."

"Maybe you should work on making this a habit? Might even help you with your writing."

"How would that help?"

"You want to be a novelist, right?," Timothée nods. "Then I think before you start writing about other people's feelings, you need to get in touch with your own."

The truth hurts and Timothée can almost feel a bit of pain in his chest at that exact moment. Armie is right, but sadly he doesn't think he is ready to go down that road just yet.

"Look, I think you need something to cool yourself down. I'm gonna go get us some ice cream, is that okay?"

"Yeah," he nods. "That would be nice."

"Chocolate and pistachio?"

Timothée manages to smile, the fact Armie already knows his favorites making him feel warm inside.

"That's perfect."

"I'll be right back."

Timothée nods once more, his eyes following Armie until he disappears into the little shop across the street. He takes a deep breath, rubs his now sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans and bites his lip, fighting off the tears that are threatening to fall. It's maddening how even when he feels his most happy, he can't help but also feel completely lost.

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Armie closes the door behind him, his eyes locked on Timothée, who has been rather quiet ever since their conversation back at the town square. He knows saying all those things wasn't easy, that it took a lot of emotional strength for him to actually say those words. Armie even noticed the tears that were starting to form in his eyes at one point, which left him feeling weak and sad. He knows this is something Timothée has to deal on his own, but he still wishes he could do something about, at least something other than just support him, because sometimes that surely doesn't seem like much.

He bites his lip, silently following his steps for a couple of seconds before their eyes meet, a small smile forming on his lips. When Timothée mirrors his reaction, Armie catches himself sighing in relief, glad to see that although quiet, he hasn't shut down completely. He would hate to have Timothée go back to the way he was acting the first few days of the trip, when he would be grumpy and serious most of the time.

"What you say we watch a movie or something? We could order some food later on and just chill here in the bedroom. Unless you feel like going out, because we can..."

"Staying here sounds like a great idea, actually. I am not in the mood for crowded places."

"Okay, then is settled. We'll stay in and get some take out."

"Thanks," Timothée says almost in a whisper as Armie arches an eyebrow. "You barely know me and yet you already had to face my breakdowns, but every single time, you handled it pretty damn great. Anyone else would have probably given up, and honestly, I wouldn't blame them."

Armie frowns and remains in silence for a whole minute, his eyes locked on Timothée, who simply stares back at him. He eventually sighs, walks over to him and takes his hand in his, squeezing them gently.

"People shouldn't give up on others based on their struggle. We all have issues, we all go through problems, but we need to understand that it is always easier to overcome such things when we have supportive people on our side. Anyone who has needed some sort of support, knows that walking away from people in the lowest moments of their lives only makes things worse. And those people should honestly rot in hell, because that's a fucked up thing to do."

"Not everyone can handle other people's problems, Armie. Like you said yourself, we all have our own problems to deal with, so not everyone can bear the struggle of taking someone else's too."

"That's not what being supportive is. I'll never fully understand or go through what you are going through, because that's your personal struggle. But I can listen, I can offer a shoulder for you to cry on or at least, if anything else seems to fail, try to make you forget about the problems, even if just for a minute."

Timothée smiles and Armie can see the tears coming back to his eyes, so he promptly cradles his face and brings him closer, placing a soft kiss on his lips. As he pulls apart, his fingers brush a couple of curls behind his ear and just as he does so, a tear rolls down Timothée's cheek.

"You can count on me, okay? I know it's not easy for you to express your emotions or your fears, but whenever you feel like talking, know that I will be ready to listen."

"Your parents must be so proud of the man you become, because for fuck's sake, you're annoyingly good."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "Now that's the Timothée I like to see."

Timothée nods, wiping away his tears as he takes a deep breath. He looks around the room, spots a couple of books laying on the dresser and walks over to it, Armie's eyes following his every step.

"Is this what you brought to your mom?"

"Yeah," he smiles while taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I told you she was a literature teacher for a while and that has always been her passion, so whenever I see old classics in this vintage covers, I like to buy it. Last road trip I managed to find a first edition card cover of Les Miserables, she absolutely loved it."

"Is so beautiful," Timothée practically whispers, his fingers tracing the cover. "I always loved Little Women, it was one of my favorites."

"Really?"

"Are you surprised?"

"A little bit, but because I thought you'd go to the more adventurous type of books."

He shrugs as he settles the books down. "I'm a whore when it comes to books, to be honest. I'll ready basically everything you give me."

"Did you read Fifty Shades Of Grey?"

"All three books," he admits while plowing himself down on the bed beside Armie, who looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. "But only because Zoe and I had a blog about books back then and I was designed to read the saga while she worked on something else."

"Wait, you had a literature blog with Zoe?"

"I keep on surprising you, huh?"

"You do," he smiles and leans closer, kissing him softly. "I'm gonna need to know the name of that blog, because I want to read every little thing you wrote for it."

"It's all rubbish, I was still in college and was just finding my style, which I seem to have lost already."

"Stop it, you didn't lose anything."

Timothée shrugs, his eyes wandering to the books again for a second. "What about your dad? Don't you buy things for him?"

"I always find it difficult to buy my dad things, so normally I just send him as many photos as I can, like every single day. But I sometimes buy him something, which he will break or lose in a matter of days."

"That sounds...chaotic."

"That's my dad," he chuckles. "He was very serious and focused on his job, but on the day to day life he can be a total mess. My mom was always the opposite though, extremely meticulous about every single thing she did, thought three or four times before doing anything."

"Huh."

Armie looks at him, fully aware of what he means by that. He chuckles, nods his head and winks at Timothée. "You two will get along just fine."

As he gets up from the bed and heads to the small coffee table, Armie doesn't notice the look on Timothée's face at his remark, if he did, he would have realized the words affected him a bit more than he would have appreciated.

He grabs a couple of menus that are spread on the table, turns on his heels and waves them at Timothée's direction, swiftly catching his attention.

"Ready to order?"

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Armie lies in bed, his arm wrapped around Timothée´s body as he stares at the television, a small smile on the corner of his eyes as the movie unfolds. He chuckles, feels Timothée´s breathing against his skin and looks down, shaking his head as he realizes he is fast asleep, his hand resting on top of his chest hair, as he has done almost every single night ever since they had sex for the first time.

Gently, he moves to the side and places Timothée down on the bed, pulling the thin bed sheets on top of his body and pushing some of his curls back. He reaches for his shirt, which is discarded on the ground and dries the sweat that forms on his forehead, a result of their warm bodies pressed together in such a hot Summer evening.

Armie gets up, his eyes wandering to his phone, which lights up in the dresser. He reaches for it, frowning as he sees Taylor´s name on the screen, but hit answer anyway, quickly heading out of the bedroom so he won´t wake Timothée up.

"You do realize it´s past midnight, right?"

"This has never been a problem with you, but sure, scold me all you want."

Armie chuckles and leans against the wall, his eyes wandering around the empty hallway. The place is seriously one step closer to becoming a ghost hotel.

"What you want, buddy?"

"The fact you´re even asking me this means you haven´t read any of the messages, have you?"

"Sorry, I didn´t pay much attention to my phone today. Is there something wrong?"

"No, everything´s alright and your brand new website is already working."

"What? Are you fucking serious?"

"Of course I am serious, have you ever seen me joke about my job?"

"No, which is something you should definitely do."

"I´ll pass on that one," he says with a chuckle as Armie nods. "Check it out and let me know what you think, okay? But I did the best to make the website easy to use, photography friendly and with your personality."

"Oh shit, that can be a problem. Did you match it with my personality or what you think is my personality?"

"I have known you for almost ten years, I know exactly what your personality is."

"Yeah, right."

"Oh, fuck off."

Armie laughs, his eyes wandering around the hall once again, scared he might have disturbed anyone, but again he notices just how empty the place really is.

"So, how is everything over there?"

"Lee and I haven´t killed each other yet, so I suppose you can say everything is going fine."

"I´ll be there in two days, you guys can chill."

"Two days?"

"Well, the trip lasted a week more than predicted, but yeah we´ll be back in two days."

"Nice, it will be good to have you back."

"It´s gonna be good to be back," he says. "And I can´t wait for you guys to actually meet Tim."

All that comes from the other side of the line is silence and Armie frowns, slightly confused. He knows Taylor for years, he knows what every frown, every chuckle and every silence means.

"What´s wrong, Taylor?"

"There´s nothing wrong."

"Taylor, don´t do this to me, okay? Just tell me whatever is on your mind."

"I´m not sure you want to hear it."

"I´m asking you, ain´t I?"

Armie hears him sigh and then a couple more seconds of silence takes them over. As he is about to speak again, he hears Taylor´s voice.

"I get that you´re in love with the guy, I really do, but I don´t really think this relationship is a good idea."

"And why is that?"

"Judging by everything you told us about this guy ever since you met him, I just don´t believe he is ready for anything more concrete, which is exactly what you want, because I could see it written all over your face."

"Taylor..."

"You asked me to tell you the truth and that´s what I´m doing, Armie. I know you like him, I know you two are having fun and all that shit, but I just have a bad feeling about all of this."

"Taylor, I know I said Timothée had trust issues and wasn´t the relationship type, but I can see that he is trying and he wants this as much as I do."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I can see it in his eyes."

Taylor sighs and Armie bites his lip, waiting for his friend to say something.

"Look, you clearly know him better than I do, but all I want is for you to be happy, okay?"

"I am happy."

"And I would hate to see that happiness be taken away from you, bro. I know you might not like what you´re hearing from me right now, but I´m just trying to keep you from getting hurt, because you´re truly the best person I´ve ever met in my life and you don´t deserve to be hurt in any way."

"Taylor..."

"Just take things slow, okay? Don´t dive in head first, don´t take risks you might end up regretting. But if something does happen, remember I´ll be here for you, I´ll even rent a boat for us to spend the weekend, or pay for our tickets to some private island in the mediterraneum."

Armie chuckles. "Okay, I´ll remember that."

"But I´ll only pay for that if you´re really, really bad."

"I get it, Tay."

"You should go to sleep now, or get back to your boyfriend. I didn´t want to keep you away from him for too long."

"He´s asleep."

"So follow his example."

"Good night, buddy."

"Good night."

Armie hangs up the phone with a sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second. He rubs his face with his hands, walks back inside the bedroom and allows his eyes to wander to Timothée, who remains asleep on the bed, completely unaware of the conversation he just had with his friend.

He bites his lip, Taylor´s words replaying over and over in his head for a whole minute before he finally pushes himself off of the wall and heads to the bathroom, taking off his clothes. He gets under the shower, the cold water washing away any remains of sweat on him while he tries to clear his head. The last thing he wants right now is to have Taylor´s voice engraved in his brain.

He steps out, dries himself off and puts on some clean boxers, heading off of the bathroom and straight to the bed. He climbs in it, fixing the pillows under his head as Timothée moves closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck while his arm wraps around his waist. With a smile, Armie looks down at him, stroking his hair until he himself falls asleep.


	21. Broken Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still not ready.

Timothée is the first one to wake up, his greenish eyes wandering around the still dark bedroom as Armie's arm remains tightly wrapped around his waist. He gently traces his finger over Armie's arm, his eyes moving all the way from his hand, which lays across his stomach, to his face as he sleeps peacefully.

He's got a peaceful expression, his breathing slow and rhythmic, his lips slightly parted. Timothée smiles fondly at the sight, although inside his head a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions leave him restless and slightly agitated. The mere mention of meeting Armie's mother the previous night has left him on the edge, his entire body reacting to the idea as if it was happening right away.

He closes his eyes, takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to get rid of those thoughts, but at the moment it seems nearly impossible. He wants to let go of those thoughts, clear his head and not let such fears take him over, but he simply can't do it. He feels his chest heaving, beads of sweat pour out from his forehead and suddenly his breathing is caught up in his throat.

Timothée grabs onto the bed sheets, counts to ten and then slowly moves away from Armie's grip and gets up, heading to the bathroom. He gets under the shower, the cold water rushing down his body as he closes his eyes. Chris told him to let things run as life wishes, not worry much about what is about to come, but as he had imagined, it was easier said than done. Being with Armie was incredibly fun and it made him feel things he truly never expected to feel, but it also enhanced all the fears he had rooted deep inside of him.

Attaching himself to someone, being vulnerable, allowing someone in, it could all easily end in more pain for him and he didn't want that. He needed to protect himself and his heart, even if his heart also claimed for him to give Armie and their relationship a chance.

Breathless, confused and on the verge of screaming in pure frustration, Timothée's fists hit the wall and he bites hard on his lip. He hates feeling this way, he hates not knowing what to do, but the mere thought of hurting Armie along this process hurts him even more.

He turns around when he hears the door open, a small smile forming on his face when he sees a naked Armie step inside. He takes a deep breath, holds tight onto his waist as he steps closer and buries his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. His smell is intoxicating and for a brief moment he feels himself calm down.

"Are you okay?," Armie asks in his usual soothing voice.

Timothée nods, sliding his fingers inside his hair and pulling him closer. He presses their foreheads together, smiles as Armie's thumb caresses his spine and then kisses him slowly, allowing the taste of his lips and the gentle touch of their skins pressed together to take over his mind and push back any sort of fear he has within him.

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The dusty trail is narrow, the trees forming a sort of arc above them, while on the distance birds and water can be heard. Their breathing gets heavier by the second, the sweat pouring down their foreheads and backs, coating their shirts and causing it to cling into their bodies. Armie is on the front, blue eyes focused on the road ahead, his muscles burning with each step he takes; Timothée trails behind, panting, his curls falling down his eyes and his cheeks flushed.

While he wonders why the hell did he agree to this, Armie remains nearly unbothered by the work out, as if running up a trail was something he did every single day of his life. He chugs on his bottle of water, nearly moaning as the cool liquid runs down his throat, his lungs burning and crying out for help.

Armie takes a look over his shoulder, a cheeky smile on his face as he sees Timothée stop, hands resting on his knees as he gasps for air. He slows down until he comes to a stop too, stretching out his arms before he grabs his bottle of water and takes a few sips of it. He dries off the sweat that pours on his forehead, walks over to Timothée and helps him sit down on the dusty ground, stretching out his legs and massaging it.

"Why the hell did I agree to this? I don't even like jogging."

"I was naked when I pitched the idea, that might have done the trick," as Timothée chuckles, nodding his head, Armie winks. He sits down, legs crossed as he moves to massage Timothée's left leg, his large hands stroking all the way from his thighs to his ankle. "You look a lot better than you did this morning, so that's a plus."

"What are you talking about?"

"You may say everything is okay, Timmy, but I noticed you were not doing well. I saw when you got up from bed, you looked agitated and concerned, then when I joined you in the bathroom, I could see something in your eyes."

"Armie..."

"You don't have to say anything, Tim," he reassures him, his thumb circling around his Achilles heel. "I get that it´s not always easy for you to express your feelings, that most of the time you'd rather keep things to yourself, so you don't have to worry about me. I won't push you into saying anything you don't want to, but I want you to remember the fact I am here and ready to listen to whatever you got to say."

Timothée nods slowly, his eyes down to his leg, where Armie's hand lies. His touch feels warm and comforting, the touch of someone who cares and wants to make sure he knows. And fuck, he knows that, he just isn't sure of how to deal with it all.

"Hey," he whispers, catching Timothée's attention once again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, just tired as fuck."

"That's too bad, because we still have about ten minutes ahead of us."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Armie shakes his head.

"Armie, c'mon."

"I promise you the view is worth it."

"Maybe, but I'm not sure I can manage that."

Armie rolls his eyes, gets up and stands his hand out for Timothée, who swiftly takes it. He pulls him up, pecks his lips and then turns around, patting his own back as Timothée looks at him confused.

"C'mon, let's go."

"What exactly do you expect me to do, Hammer?"

"Hop on, Chalamet, I'll give you a ride for a couple of minutes,"

Timothée bursts out laughing, his curls bouncing around until he stops, noticing Armie's stare.

"Are you actually serious?"

"Yes, hop on."

"You're gonna kill yourself."

"I think I can handle you, Chalamet, so hop on or I'm gonna go on my own."

"You say as if it was a bad idea."

"There are a lot of mosquitos around here, there could be some small but slightly wild animals too, so it´s really your choice."

Timothée frowns, his foot tapping on the dirty ground before he sighs and nods his head.

"Fine, but how exactly do we do this?"

"Just hop on, for fuck's sake. You must have done this when you were little, right?"

Timothée rolls his eyes at Armie's tone, but steps closer to him, grips onto his shoulders and then propels himself up, wrapping his legs around Armie's hips. He bites his lip, trying to stop himself from laughing, aware of how silly they look at the moment.

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Silence took them over the second they reached the top of the hill and were graced by an astonishing view of the city below them, the trees, roads and houses so small, they almost looked like a painting. The air up there seemed even fresher, the sound of birds and the gentle ruffle of the leaves creating a peaceful atmosphere.

Completely alone up there, they had more than enough time to explore every single corner they could find, smiling at every different flower or plant they saw, snapping photos and simply allowing the reinvigorating aura of the place to take them over. After a couple of minutes, they both sat down at the edge of the hill, legs dangling off of the cliff as they stared at the city below.

Timothée found himself caught up in his thoughts for a moment, but this time it was different than what happened in the morning. He wasn't feeling so stressed out as he was before, but there was still an undeniable fear inside of him, which he could only assume was something that would never in fact leave him. But maybe he needed to fear things before actually making peace with them; or at least that's what he was telling himself at the moment.

Biting his lip, he turns his gaze to Armie, who sits quietly beside him, going through some of the many photos he took after they reached the top of the hill. He couldn't see them very well, but what he could see was incredible, pretty much like every other photograph he had seen of Armie. His talent was something Timothée could barely put into words and every day that went by, he felt more and more ashamed to have doubted his skills. Armie might be a popular Instagram photographer, but he is so much more than that.

Unable to contain the smile that takes him over at those thoughts, Timothée finds himself flushed. He never admired someone the way he admires Armie, and he definitely never felt so close to someone like he does to him. He reaches for his phone, goes through a couple of messages and then quickly, and rather sneakily, snaps a photo of Armie, who remains completely absorbed in his own little world.

Timothée uploads the photo to his Instagram, plays with a couple of the filters, smirks as he realizes he is the one becoming an Instagram photographer now and then publishes the photo. It doesn't take longer than a minute for Chris's like to appear on the screen, followed by a cheeky comment on Armie's beauty. He chuckles, shakes his head and moves to his profile, scrolling through some of the latest posts.

"I see you're actually quite popular on Instagram, huh?"

Timothée smirks, turning his gaze back to Armie, who has a cheeky grin on his face.

"You really wanna talk about Instagram popularity, Hammer?," he cocks an eyebrow as Armie shrugs and then rolls his eyes, gently shoving him. "I had quite a few followers because of the magazine, but I have to admit I have gained quite a lot more after we started this trip."

"Really?"

He nods. "I presume people have been migrating from your account to mine, so thank you for all the new followers."

"Well, you're welcome. I'm here to help with whatever I can, even if it's just followers."

"Your friends are following me too, by the way," he adds while Armie looks down at him with a frown. "Yep, Taylor started following me before we even left New York."

"Of course he did," he mumbles, attracting an odd look from Timothée. "Have they ever interacted with you or something?"

"They've liked a couple of photos, but I'm sure they spend most of the time just lurking around. This was probably their way of keeping an eye on me during the trip, you know?"

"What you mean?"

"You went on a road trip with a complete stranger, Hammer, don't you think your friends would be even the slightest curious to know more about me?"

"Well, you do have a point."

"I mean, it´s not everyday you invite a stranger to a three week journey."

"Trust me, they were not very keen on the idea. The word psycho was used a couple of times to try and persuade me to give up on this idea."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "Was I the psycho?"

"Maybe," Armie drags out the a, a little cheeky smile on his face. "But to be fair, they were a lot more worried about my own sanity. They thought I was insane for inviting you to the trip when we had just met."

"You have to admit it was a bit crazy of you to do this," Timothée smirks. "But I also think it was quite a bold move and I respect you for that. I don't think I'd ever have the courage to do such a thing, even for a good piece."

"Except you did."

"I agreed to come with you after a long and tiring conversation with Zoe, but I would never have the balls to do what you did. I would never contact you and ask you to come on a road trip with me, or suggest that I go on the road trip with you so we could work on the profile. If it wasn't for your audacity to even think of proposing this to me, we wouldn't be here today."

Armie nods, a small but genuine smile on his face as he stares at Timothée. He remains silent for a minute or two, bites his lip and sighs.

"What?"

"Do you regret coming on this road trip?"

"Why are you asking me this now?"

"Just curious," he shrugs. "I mean, you were nearly forced to do this and I know you had many reservations about me. Then of course, there's the fact you said I have some sort of weird effect on you, so maybe you regret coming on this trip."

It's Timothée's turn to remain silent, his expression not really telling much of what he was feeling and thinking.

"I thought this would be an experience I would regret, but with time I realized that this trip was a lot more important to me than I could have ever predicted. I am slowly learning a few things about myself, while also learning how to deal with things that are constantly happening around us and that we can't really control."

Armie nods, not even saying a word. He knows Timothée isn't done yet.

"And if I am being honest with you, Armie, you do have a strange and unprecedented effect on me, which I'm still struggling with, but it's not enough to get me to regret this trip."

Armie nods, still in complete silence. With a chuckle, Timothée moves closer and slides his hand to the back of his neck.

"Is that not what you wanted to hear?"

"What I want isn't really important, is it? What matters is what you're feeling and I'm just glad you actually shared your thoughts with me."

Timothée rolls his eyes. "Jesus, can you stop being so nice? It's really starting to get annoying."

Armie shrugs, a smirk coming to his face. "What can I do? Is just who I am."

"Is just who I am," Timothée mocks as Armie laughs and brings him closer, their lips connecting only seconds later in a sweet and slow kiss.

**  
  
  
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**  
  
  
  
**

A group of teenagers sit in the small park across from the Inn, their laughter attracting Armie's attention as he sits down on the balcony, phone pressed against his ear as his mom goes on and on. A part of him thinks he should be ashamed of not really paying attention to what she is saying, but they have been on the phone for over ten minutes now and she is still stuck on the same topic of conversation, going on and on about how she wants to have lunch with him and his friends once he is back home.

And Armie has to admit, it's a great idea, not only because he misses her, but also because he can't wait to eat her and his father's food again. It's been way too long and he could use a good homemade meal after three weeks on the road.

"...and then Taylor called, so I thought..."

"What?," he sits up straight, his attention now back to the conversation, completely ignoring the kids across from them. "Taylor called you? What for?"

"He's worried about you, sweetie."

"For fuck's sake," he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. "Mom, please don't pay much attention to what Taylor is saying. He's worried and it's nice to know I have good friends around me who are willing to do anything they can to help me, but it's not that deep."

"So you're saying there's no reason for me to be worried?"

"Absolutely no reason at all," he guarantees. "You have way too much on your plate already, don't waste your precious time thinking about silly things."

"This is your life, Armie, it will never be something silly for me."

"I know, mom. What I mean, is that you don't have to pay attention to what Taylor is saying, because he's turning a minor issue into something huge."

"So there is an issue," she says as Armie sighs. "Armie, you can talk to me."

"Mom, there are some things we just can't control, okay? Let me figure out on my own what is going on, where things are going and if at any given moment I think I need some advice, I'll run straight to you. Are we clear?"

"Yes, we are."

"Good."

"I can't wait to see you, kiddo."

Armie smiles, nodding his head. "I can't wait to see you too, mom. I'll be back in New York tomorrow night, I'll check on Archie and solve some random stuff, but I'll be with you guys by Friday afternoon."

"You do what you have to do and come whenever you have the time, Armie, there's no need to rush anything."

"Yes, there is. I miss you like hell and I won't waste a minute more than necessary away from you."

"That's sweet," she nearly whispers. "Now you should go, I've kept you on this phone for way too long, I'm sure you got things to do."

"We're going out," he explains. "Timothée wants to go to a karaoke bar."

"You hate karaoke."

"I know."

She chuckles and Armie can't help but smile. "Well, seems like this guy has some skills."

"Mom, please..."

"No need to whine, I won't say anything else. Go have fun, but be careful, you're driving tomorrow and you need to be well rested."

"I'm a responsible guy, Mrs. Hammer, no need to worry."

"I know you are, but I'm still your mother, so I don't know why you're surprised."

Armie chuckles. "You're unbelievable, mom."

"Yeah yeah, I know. Now go and have fun."

"I love you."

"Love you too, kid."

Armie sighs while he hangs up the phone, his heart tightening inside his chest whenever he hears those words leave his mother's lips. He often wonders when it will be the last time he will hear it, which also makes him wonder if he is saying it enough.

He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath and pushes himself up, walking back to the room, where Timothée sits on the edge of the bed, phone in hand.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Good, I was starting to think you were on the phone for so long because you were stalling."

"Not gonna lie, part of the reason why I even allowed my mom to talk so much is because I was hoping you'd change your mind."

Timothée smirks as he pulls himself up. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you this hasn't happened, Hammer. So let's get going, because I want to enjoy the night as much as possible."

"We can do that at some random bar, you know? It doesn't have to be karaoke."

"You don't even have to sing, dude, you can just sit down and drink."

Armie frowns, not really believing Timothée's words.

"I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're gonna make me sing something."

"I don't force people into doing anything, but it would be nice to have a partner."

"See? You're already trying to make me feel guilty for not...," he stops as Timothée pulls him closer and pecks his lips.

"Just shut the fuck up and lets get going."

"Fine, but if you even try to get me to sing anything, I will riot."

Timothée chuckles while rolling his eyes, his fingers intertwining with Armie's. "And I thought I was the dramatic one."

"You are, I'm learning from you."

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
  
**

"Here I am, rocking like a hurricane...."

Armie drags out the last word, his feet moving to the beat of the song as an audience cheers and sings along with him the last chorus. He chuckles, the microphone hanging from his hand as he waits for his score on the screen. As the big block numbers appear, he hears the whole bar erupt in whistles and screams.

He nods to himself, hands the microphone back to its place and rushes out of the stage, high-fiving some strangers on his way back to his table. He slopes down on his seat, immediately reaching for a glass of beer, taking a few long sips of it under Timothée's stare.

"About two hours ago you were saying you hated karaoke and tried your best to change my mind," he wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward on the table. "What caused the sudden change?"

"All the beer I had," he admits as Timothée chuckles. "And if I am being completely honest, it's not that bad. Just a little embarrassing at the start."

"But it can be quite liberating, right?"

"In some ways, yeah."

"I always feel like I'm back to being a teenager, singing under the shower, imagining I was at a big ass stage and consequently irritating my mother."

Armie laughs, his finger gently tracing the glass, following the drops of water that runs down from it to the table.

"You have some rockstar qualities in you, maybe you should have tried that out."

"You did hear me sing, didn't you?," Armie shrugs and Timothée smirks. "You must really like me, because there's absolutely no way I could be a rockstar. I doubt I'd ever get anyone to turn a chair for me on The Voice, but I could make a fool of myself on something like The X Factor."

"I am just gonna pretend I know what you talking about."

"Oh, c'mon. You're twenty nine, it's not possible that you don't know what The Voice and The X Factor are."

"I have a vague idea of what The Voice is, but I doubt I have ever seen The X Factor anywhere."

Timothée stares at him with wide eyes, clearly unable to grasp the idea that Armie, who seems very into anything regarding pop culture, wouldn't know what these shows are.

"Oh, I like these little moments that I leave you speechless."

"Are you serious right now or you're just fucking with me?," he rolls his eyes as Armie smirks. "Don't even dare say what you're thinking, Hammer."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Yes, you were."

Armie shrugs and winks at Timothée, before leaning back on the chair, his eyes wandering around the bar for a waiter. He signals for one, pointing over to the table and nods as the guy gives him a thumbs up.

"So, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What?"

"You know my mom called earlier, we spent quite a lot of time on the phone together and she...," he sighs, scratching the back of his neck.

"What's going on, Armie?"

"My mom is planning a lunch on Sunday, to celebrate the fact I'm back and because she wants to have everyone over. Well, I know this might sound a bit too much for you, but she asked me to invite you."

"She did?"

He nods, a small but sweet smile on his lips. "Yeah, she did. Actually, she wants to get to know you ever since I told them about the profile and we didn't even know who you were. Anyway, you don't have to say anything right now and you sure don't have to feel pressured to go, but I thought it would be nice to ask."

Timothée blinks, his hand gripping tightly onto the table as he stares at Armie in complete silence. He can feel his heart beating faster, sweat pouring from his forehead and suddenly all he wants is a bottle of Vodka, so he can chug it all in one go.

"Timmy?"

"Yeah," he responds all of a sudden. "I'll think about it."

**_ I'll think about it _ , the words replay over and over on his head, even though he knows there is no way he can actually make it through something like this. Meeting Armie's family would make everything way too real and if his little panic attack that morning was any indication, he was definitely not ready for that.   
**


	22. Don´t Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, it doesn´t even matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be some angst ahead and since we are not exactly on the most happy of times, I thought it would be nice to warn you guys. Stay strong wherever you are, we´ll make it out of this :)  
> Love you all.

Shades of orange and yellow fill up the blue sky as the Sun rises, the quietness of the streets only being interrupted by the melodic chirping of the birds. On the second floor of the Inn, the balcony doors are open wide, the wind blowing in and causing the curtains to move around like in a silent ballet. Curled up on the armchair by the door, Timothée quietly stares ahead, his eyes distant while the puzzles in his head try to come together.

His eyes wander over to Armie for a moment and he can tell his heart is suddenly beating faster, although at the moment it is hard to tell if it's because he's scared or if it's because that's the type of reaction he unleashes on him. Timothée has tried, many times, to fully understand the depth of his feelings for Armie, but the anxiety that consumes him whenever he tries to think about it is just too much to bear. He wished he could be normal, approach relationships like everyone else does, but sadly things don't always work out the way we want.

Meanwhile on the bed, Armie moves from one side to the other, his eyes opening slowly as he sighs. He quickly notices the absence of Timothée, but it doesn't take him long to see him. Armie doesn't move, doesn't speak or makes any other type of sound, he simply lies there and watches Timothée from a distance. They had a great day despite his weird behavior in the morning, but Armie would have to be an idiot not to notice that something had changed again during the night.

When they made it to the karaoke bar, Timothée was excited and talkative, but by the time they left he resembled a lot more the Timothée Armie met back at the coffee shop three weeks prior. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, Armie had fallen for him from the start, he was fully aware of that by now, but it also made him feel slightly worried. What if Taylor was right? What if he was giving too much of himself to someone who made it very clear that they don't do relationships?

He could be walking into a trap on his own will and that made him a bit apprehensive, although his feelings for Timothée were way too intense to allow him to step back. At least not right now.

Timothée sighs, runs a hand through his curls and turns to the side, an immediate smile appearing on the corner of his lips as he notices Armie is awake and staring at him. He looks extremely cute when he just wakes up, his sleepy eyes and messy hair really doing wonders to his beauty.

Without saying a word, Timothée gets up and moves back to the bed, sliding under the sheets and wrapping his arm around Armie's warm body. Whatever happens, whatever he decides to do, he will deal with it later on. Right now he wants to be close to him, engrave in his mind every little thing about him.

"Are you alright?," Armie nearly whispers.

"Yeah, I just couldn't sleep, so I got up and tried to get some work done."

"Were you successful?"

Timothée looks up, a sheepish smile on his lips. "What you think?"

"Tonight you will be back to your home and if I remember correctly, you said there's where your best pieces come from, right?," Timothée simply nods as Armie strokes his back. "Then you don't have to worry, I'm sure by the time you're back at the magazine on Monday, you'll have something great prepared."

"No pressure," he mocks as Armie chuckles and pulls him closer, squeezing his body against his. "You have a lot of faith in me."

"Why wouldn't I have? You're a brilliant journalist and writer, Timmy, I know whatever you decide to do it will be amazing."

"Thank you."

"No need for that," he winks and lifts up his chin, placing a gentle and quick kiss on Timothée's lips. "We should get to work. Make sure we are not forgetting anything, have some breakfast and then hit the road."

Timothée nods, sitting up on the bed. He stares down at his hand for a moment, then to Armie, who's looking at him with a serious and yet caring look.

"What did you take from this road trip?"

"That everyone's different and we should learn to respect that. People deal with love, loss, pain and happiness in different ways, in the different moments of their lives and we shouldn't push or rush them."

Armie smiles, a hand sliding down Timothée's waist and pulling him closer. He kisses his temple, runs his fingers through his curls and then gets up, heading straight to the bathroom. He stops before he can close the door though, his eyes wandering to Timothée, who remains on the exact same spot.

"We also shouldn't force ourselves to be anything other than what we are, you know? We are what we are and there's a reason for that, forcing ourselves to live in a certain way just because we want to please others is not the right path to follow, because it might as well hurt more than cure."

"Why are you saying that?"

He shrugs. "Just thought you needed to hear that."

Unable to actually form any words at the moment, Timothée simply stares at Armie, his green eyes tearing up. He tries to smile, tries his hardest to say something, but all he can manage is to nod. Things were already complicated for him, having Armie say those words was not really helping.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


"Thanks," Timothée's eyes advert to the waitress, a gentle smile on his lips as she nods back at him. Immediately after she turns around, his eyes are on the plate she just set in front of him, a stack of pancakes with chocolate staring back at him.

He sighs, grabs the fork and takes a couple of timid bites, his eyes constantly wandering from his phone, that lies on the table, to Armie. He has noticed Armie's silence and he knows it's only a mirror of his own, which makes him hate himself a little bit. It's their last few hours together and it's pretty clear it's gonna be tense and awkward. They don't deserve that and he knows it perfectly well.

With a deep breath, he takes enough courage to actually look up, his eyes finding Armie's immediately. He smiles and once Armie does the same, he feels almost like a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. At least he doesn't hate him.

"I'm sorry," he nearly whispers, causing Armie to arch his eyebrows. "For being weird and all this shit, I just have a lot in my head."

"Don't worry about it, Timmy."

"I do worry, because in some ways I feel like I'm ruining the day and I didn't want that..."

"Hey," he plants his hand on top of his, his thumb stroking his skin. "Stop apologizing, alright? You didn't ruin anything and even if you did, the day has just begun, we could turn it around."

Despite the inner turmoil that consumes him, Timothée can't help but chuckle. Armie is always so caring about people around him, ready to do anything he possibly can to make them feel better. It's great to have someone like him around, but it's also terrifying to think he could poison him.

"Seriously, Timothée, you don't have to apologize for anything. We can't really control our feelings and if you're not going through the best few days, it's okay, you can just tell me."

"Thank you for always being so understanding. I seriously don't understand how you do it, because sometimes I can't even handle it myself."

Armie shrugs,"I guess it is a gift of mine."

"Probably."

"Besides, I'd say you and Taylor share a few similarities, so maybe being his friend for almost ten years has helped."

"That could be it."

Armie smiles while leaning closer, his hand now stroking Timothée's arm. "Just relax, okay? Let life happen as it is supposed to, don't think too much."

"I sadly can't, because I'm always trapped between wanting things to go their own way and watch it all end badly, or do something about it but find out that it only made things worse. So in the end, it doesn't even matter."

"That's a song," Armie quickly says as Timothée chuckles and pushes him away. "I'm sorry you feel that way and I'm sorry I can't do much to help. I do believe though that even the most confusing and agonizing moments of our lives happen for a reason, which we might not instantly understand, but one day it will make sense."

Timothée nods. "You say this based on your mother?"

"That too, but feeling alone when I was a child was extremely agonizing back then, but today I realize it helped me view the world in a particular way, it helped me pay more attention to all the things that surrounded me, which definitely helped in my photography. So, I'm not saying being alone was worth it, but it wasn't a complete waste either."

"I wish I was more like you, Hammer."

"Don't," he assures Timothée. "Don't aspire to be like someone else when you can simply improve the great person you already are."

"I hate to admit, but I guess that year of psychology classes did help."

Armie laughs, nodding his head as he sits back straight. He gestures to their plates, smiles as Timothée nods and takes a bite of his eggs, allowing silence to take them over again. Only this time is a pleasant one.

  
  
  


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Armie parks the car under a tree, a sigh escaping him as he relaxes his body. He leans his head back on the seat, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before opening them up again and looking to the side, where Timothée sleeps. His lips curve in a small smile, although there's a lot of angst building up inside of him.

He knows what Timothée's mood swings the past day was all about, he noticed it almost right away. Ever since he mentioned his mother and the fact she wanted to meet him, Timothée started acting this way, distancing himself at moments, only to then change back to the Timothée he had gotten used to the past few days. He was scared, confused even, unaware of what to do as they drove back home and a decision about their future should be taken.

They could move forward with the relationship they had built in the past three weeks, dive into each other's worlds and see how far they could go, how strong the connection between them was. But there was also a different path to follow, in which they forgot about the sex, the kisses and late night make out sessions, focused on the article and then moved on with their lives, like many people do.

Armie knew the path he wanted to follow, after all, his feelings for Timothée only grew as the days went by and all he wanted was the chance to be closer to Timothée, get to know him even better. Dive into his work process, visit his apartment, meet his friends, get a glimpse of his day to day life in New York. The only problem was that Armie wasn't really sure of what path Timothée would want to follow, but something deep inside was telling him that he was way too torn in between them to make a decision right away.

He sighs, shakes his head and rubs his face with his hands, trying his best to push back any negative thoughts. They still have about four hours ahead of them until they make it to New York, four hours where they can talk and maybe reach some common ground, although Timothée's silence ever since they reached the car has been almost sickening. Armie steals another glimpse at him, bites his lip and allows all the memories of the past few days to flood his head. From their first kiss to the last time they had sex, going through every single touch and smile they shared, Armie cherished every single second they had.

It's funny how when he pitched the idea of this trip to Timothée, he had no idea of just how important it would actually be. He's been through many, many experiences on his trips, met the most diverse number of people and found himself in torrid romances, but nothing came close to what he felt when he was close to Timothée. He was different, he was important and life changing.

He closes his eyes once again, leans his forehead on the steering wheel and tries to get his breathing to normal, or at least find himself in a head space that doesn't leave him completely drained. As he sits straight up, he feels Timothée's eyes on him and turns to look at him, a small smile on his lips.

"Are you okay?"

He nods. "Yeah, I'm just a bit tired. Probably just drank a bit too much yesterday night, you know."

"Are you sure is just that?"

"Yeah," he nods once again. "I'm gonna go get a Gatorade and some chips, do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You're saying no to chips?," Armie cocks an eyebrow and Timothée lets out a small chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll make sure to get you one."

"Thanks."

Armie winks, hops off of the car and closes the door behind him. He stops for a second, looks over his shoulder at Timothée, who's already absorbed on his phone and sighs, heading inside the store. He grabs two bottles of Gatorade, two bags of chips and some chocolate, pays for it and then heads out. Once back inside the car, he hands the chips to Timothée, staring at him for a good minute.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Just admiring you."

"You really need to stop saying these things, okay?"

"Or you could simply get used to it."

"Not happening."

"I could easily say the same," Armie shrugs before starting the car, his heart and mind fighting over whether or not to bring out the subject that has been consuming him. "Ready to go back home, Chalamet?"

"Yep."

Armie nods, his eyes ahead as he speeds off down the road. Maybe they can leave this subject for later, over dinner, once they are home.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The four hours of the ride back home was weird to say the least. While silence reigned for most of the time, Timothée found it almost impossible to keep himself still; when he wasn't bouncing his leg up and down, he was fidgeting with his fingers or constantly running his fingers through his curls. He was nervous, that wasn't exactly a surprise, but he couldn't really believe just how sick this whole situation made him feel.

They were approaching their destination, Brooklyn mere minutes away from them and once Armie parked the car in front of his apartment, a decision would have to be made. He either would have to fight off all his fears and face the feelings he has growing inside of him, or he would have to do what he always did, finish things before they even started. And he was a professional at that, he knew exactly what to do and what to say, or better yet, what not to say.

The only problem was, he didn't want to do this to Armie, he didn't want to put him through any kind of pain. But at the same time, he didn't want to inflict any pain in himself and if there's one thing Timothée learned about relationships, is that they always end up in pain. And so he sighs, closes his eyes and tries to clear his head, hoping that one moment of peace could help him find a path to follow. Obviously, things are not that easy and instead of calming down, Timothée finds himself more and more distressed.

He remembers all the good moments he had with Armie during the last three weeks, rejoices on the laughs and the smiles, appreciates all the moments they sat down and shared a nice and meaningful conversation. Armie makes him feel good, he makes him feel a lot lighter and carefree, which should be enough to make his decision easier, but nothing is ever easy to Timothée.

He bites his lips as he watches Armie turn a corner, his apartment building already in sight. He takes a deep breath, hands turning into fists as he watches, still in complete and nearly painful silence, as the building becomes bigger and the car slows down. He closes his eyes one more time, nearly praying for some guidance when Armie parks the car and turns off the engine.  _ This is it _ , he thinks to himself as he opens his eyes and turns to look at Armie, who remains with his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes ahead.

"We're here," Armie nearly whispers and he nods.

"We're here."

Another brief moment of silence follows and Timothée almost feels like screaming, not even on the first days of the trip they were this quiet and distant.

"Look," Armie's voice is a little louder now, but Timothée can still hear the uncertainty that takes him over. "I know a lot happened during the past three weeks and I think the best we could do is sit down and discuss everything, but I also have the feeling right now is not the best time for us to do this. So, maybe we could meet up later tonight and talk over dinner? I think once we've had the opportunity to rest and get our thoughts back in place, things might come out easier."

Timothée stares at him in complete silence, blinking a couple of times as he processes the words Armie just said. It's almost as if his brain is about to short circuit.

"You're right," he starts talking, not even sure of where he is going. "I'm really tired and I think I'll take the rest of the day to rest, so maybe we could leave it for another day?"

A quick nod comes from Armie, his narrowed eyes staring so deeply into him, Timothée feels like he is searching for his soul.

"Tomorrow?"

"Zoe wants to sit down with me and talk about the profile, so I'm not sure I'll have much time tomorrow," he explains, his hands gripping onto his jeans. "But maybe I can text you during the weekend and we'll figure something out..."

"Or maybe," Armie interrupts him and Timothée can see a hint of anger filling his eyes. "You could be honest with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, your honesty is the one thing I have always admired about you. From day one, grumpy or not, you were honest with me, you told me when you didn't want to talk or when things seemed too intense. I wish you would have gone down that road as you dump me."

"That's not what..."

"Don't try to make a fool of me, Timothée."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"So you were not about to ghost me? Tell me, were you actually gonna text me or you'd ignore me until I gave up on you?"

Timothée sighs, his hands sweating and his jaw clenched.

"Is this your usual approach? That's how you push people away from you? You ignore them until they give up, so you won't have to live with the guilt?"

"Armie, you're not being fair with me right now."

"Oh, I'm not?," he scoffs, fingers running through his hair as he takes a quick glimpse at the street before looking back at Timothée. "I'm aware I was stupid enough to believe things could be different with me, but you do understand most people in my position would be a lot more irritated than I am, right? You do understand that I'm still doing my best to give you the benefit of the doubt and not go down this rabbit hole that screams that being with me was just your way to guarantee the perfect article."

"I would never do that, Armie."

He shrugs. "I don't know, because truth be told, I don't really know you as good as I like to think I do."

Timothée remains in silence, his head spinning as he uses all his strength to keep himself from shedding a tear. He can see a mix of anger, sadness and disappointment in Armie's eyes and it truly kills him.

"Armie..."

"Don't worry, you won't have to say anything else."

"Please..."

"I won't contact you and if you need anything regarding the article, I'm sure Zoe can reach me. Also, you don't have to worry, because once you're done with the article, there will be nothing to connect us."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so I am."

As Armie sits back straight, eyes on the road and hands gripping into the steering wheel, Timothée bites his lip, trying to find somewhere in his brain a word that would make it all better, or at least better than this mess he has put himself in. After a couple of seconds, it's clear to him Armie is done talking, so he reaches out for his bags on the backseat, opens the door and hops off of the car, closing the door behind him.

He stares down at his feet for a second or two, trying to gain enough courage to look Armie in the eye again. As he turns around, he catches a glimpse of his sad blue eyes and it nearly destroys him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Armie. He tries to speak, but words fail him and suddenly Armie is already driving down the road and away from him.

Confused and angry with himself, Timothée grabs his bags, rushes inside the building and inside the elevator, more than happy that he didn't run into anyone willing to talk. He waits to get to his floor, the wait nearly agonizing and seemingly taking a lifetime. When the doors open and he finds himself standing in the middle of the hallway, Timothée finally allows a tear to stream down his cheek, but he swiftly wipes it away. He needs to keep himself together.

He opens the door, throws his bags to the side and leans against the wall, staring into space as he takes a couple of deep breaths. Footsteps startle him and he looks to the side, watching as Zoe rushes over to him, engulfing him in a tight hug.

"I'm so happy to see back, lazy ass."

Timothée simply nods, which swiftly catches Zoe's attention, causing her to pull away from him and stare at him in confusion. Before she can even attempt to say anything though, Chris shows up behind her and the look in his face is the one of someone who knows everything without the need to be told a word. He sighs, tucks his hands in his pocket and steps forward.

"What happened?"


	23. Love Isn´t Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions and side effects

Armie parks the car outside his house, a loud sigh escaping him as he leans his head against the steering wheel, recounting not only what happened the last five minutes, but also everything that has been going on inside of him ever since he met Timothée at the coffee shop. He's sad, confused and mad for allowing himself to fall in love this way, but he knows there's really no way of keeping things like this from happening. When love strikes, you hardly ever can do something about it.

He takes a deep breath, rubs his face and grabs his bags, hoping off of the car and locking it behind him. He stops by the sidewalk, stares at his house and then slowly makes his way over, opening the door to immediately find Archie on his feet. He smiles, a bright and genuine smile as he finally reconnects with his friend.

Armie kneels down, hugging Archie and chuckling as he licks his face and sniffs him, his tail moving frantically from side to side.  _ Well, at least he is happy to see me _ , Armie thinks to himself, trying to keep any bad thoughts from taking over. He is back with Archie, he is home and he's got a lot to do; all he can do right now is to at least try to focus on the important things and move on with his life. It's not gonna be easy though, and of that he is sure.

He plants a soft kiss on Archie's head, his hands stroking his fur as he leans against the door, laughing and smiling at his furry friend. As footsteps are heard, he gazes up, his eyes finding Lee, who stands just a couple feet away from him, arms crossed and a small smile on his face.

"Look who's back."

"Hey, buddie."

Lee frowns almost immediately, noticing the strange look upon Armie's face.

"Are you alright? Did something happen?"

Armie sighs, trying to figure out how to explain everything that went down between him and Timothée just a couple of minutes ago, but before he can do it, a voice comes from the mezzanine, causing them both to look up.

"He dumped you, didn't he?"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée looks even smaller as he coils up on the couch, hugging his legs tightly as his eyes find the wooden floor of his apartment, which he angrily stares at it. He can feel Zoe and Chris´s gaze upon him, their confused expressions as he simply resorts to silence; he needs that at the moment, get his thoughts back in order and fully wrap his head around what he just did.

The look in Armie´s eyes as they gazed upon each other for the last time said so much, showed so much, and Timothée knew he simply wouldn´t be able to forget about it for a long time. Maybe he never would.

He sighs, feels Zoe´s hand land on his knee and finally looks up, his eyes finding hers. He notices how worried she is and his heart breaks even more; apparently he´s causing pain in everyone he even slightly cares about today.

"Love, you gotta tell us what happened. We´re getting worried here and if you don´t say anything, we´re gonna have to talk to Armie about it."

"He dumped him," Chris says matter of factly, his eyes finding Timothée´s. "Isn´t that obvious?"

"You did?"

Timothée shrugs, a couple of tears forming in his eyes already.

"I had no other option."

"Timothée..."

"Are you fucking serious right now?," Chris scoffs, shaking his head. "You had many options, including being honest with the guy and telling him you wanted to be with but that you were scared, I'm sure he would've understood."

"Is not that simple, okay?"

"Only because you always find a way to make things harder than they should be," Chris gets up, every fiber in his body telling him to calm down, but at the same time, he simply can´t stand there and watch this happen once again. "You´re in love with him, Timothée. When you talk about him, the things that happen in your face, in your voice, is something I´ve never seen before, yet you´re willing to lose what could possibly be the best thing in your life because you're scared of trying."

Timothée shakes his head, wiping away the tears that have dared to fall down his cheek, his brain sending mixed signals all over his body. He´s sad and disappointed in himself for doing what he did, but also ashamed for being this hurt over something he knows it´s for the best.

"I'm doing what's best for me, Chris."

"No, you´re not."

"Chris, I don´t think this is the right time for this conversation."

"You´re right, Zoe, is not the right time, because we should´ve had this conversation years ago," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "You can´t go on like this, Timothée. You can´t keep pushing away every single person that dares to care about you, do you understand that? Can´t you see that you´re so scared of others hurting you, that you´re hurting yourself?"

"That´s not what..."

"You push everyone away before they can even get to know you, you´ve been doing this for years and it´s only killing you from inside out, but you´re so caught up in keeping all your walls up that you don´t even notice." He shrugs, his eyes locked on Timothée, who turns his hands into fists. "You said yourself that Armie has some sort of power over you, that he made you feel so comfortable you told him in three weeks things it took you months, or even years, to tell Zoe and I. Why are you wasting all of that potential? Why are you suppressing your feeling and giving room to fear? You´re better than this, Timothée."

"You have never been through the things I have been, Chris, so don´t stand there and tell me how to live my life."

"Just because your father abandoned you, doesn´t mean everyone will, Timothée. You´re no longer a child, you´re a grown man, you should have understood that by now."

"Get the fuck out of here."

"Guys, please, can´t we just calm down and try to have a civil conversation?"

"Civil? Have you listened to him?"

"Tim, we both know that Chris can be a bit harsh sometimes, but I know he..."

"I meant every single word I said," he interrupts, earning a glare from Zoe. "He can´t go his entire life pushing people away, expecting this to be the perfect formula for happiness, because it's quite the opposite. People need people, Timothée, and yeah, those relationships are complicated and sometimes they cause us pain, but that's part of life and without pain, we can´t fully appreciate the happy moments."

Chris sighs, buries his face in his hands and then looks back at Timothée, who remains silent, although his eyes are full of rage.

"I know you hate me right now, but I couldn´t keep myself quiet any longer, because I´m scared one day you´re gonna wake up and realize what you´ve been doing, but it´s gonna be too late."

"Get out."

"Just think about it."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

Zoe sighs, holding onto Timothée´s shoulder as she looks at Chris. "Please, just go."

Chris nods, grabs his phone and wallet on the coffee table and walks over to the door. He stops, takes a look over his shoulder and finds Timothée´s gaze.

"Love ain´t weakness, Timothée."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Tension builds up as the seconds go by, the voices getting louder with each word they say. Sitting on the couch, face buried in his hands, Lee sighs, wondering how the fuck things escalated so quickly. They should have sat down and talked about what happened, but instead they resorted to blaming one another when the reality was neither one of them was to blame.

He looks back up, a frown upon his face as he watches his friends stand just a couple of feet away from one another, flushed faces as they speak above one another, making it almost impossible to understand things clearly. Lee is tired, confused and deeply sad to see this whole thing unfold.

"...but that's exactly what you want to hear, right? How much of an idiot I was to allow myself to fall for him."

"Are you serious right now? You actually think I'm enjoying this, Armie? I'm your friend and I care about you, that's why I even dared to say what I was thinking."

"No, Taylor, you wanted to make sure everyone knew you were right, like fucking always."

"So that's what you think of me? You think all I care about is being right?"

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. I care about you, that's why I spent days debating with myself if I should even say anything. But in the end I decided it was better to do, because I wanted to make sure you were at least prepared for whatever happened, but never have I wished that my assumptions about the guy were right. I would much rather be wrong right now than see you this way."

"Sorry, but I'm having a hard time believing that."

"Then you clearly don't know me as well as I thought you did, which is a shame." Armie scoffs, shaking his head as Taylor sighs. "How did I suddenly become the villain in this story? All I wanted was to help you and..."

"Oh please, just..."

"Can you two stop, for fuck's sake?," Lee finally interferes, standing up from the couch. He takes a deep breath, hands running through his hair as he walks closer to his friends. "Arguing among yourselves won't make any of you feel better."

Silently, Armie and Taylor take a quick look at each other before turning back to Lee.

"You guys are friends and you should be supporting one another instead of arguing," he turns to Armie, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "Taylor was worried about you, that's why he decided to talk, he never meant to make you self conscious or anything, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know that right now things might seem worse than they really are, but you can't let the pain you have inside of you take it over and turn into anger. We're here to help you, Armie, so please don't push us away."

Taylor sighs, eyes wandering back to Armie, who stands completely still. He bites his lip, takes a breath and walks over to him, gently landing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for what happened, okay? I never meant to say anything that would hurt you, Armie, you're my best friend for fuck's sake, all I want is to see you happy. I also want you to know that you can count on me for whatever you might need, because I'll be here."

Armie sighs, finally looking Taylor in the eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said, you shouldn't be held responsible for what happened between Timothée and I."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not, I wasn't fair with you."

Taylor shrugs. "I know I can be an ass sometimes, so maybe I deserved that."

"No, you didn't."

"It's all good now," Lee says while stepping closer to his friends. "Now, can we just sit down and you'll explain exactly what happened?"

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The Sunlight comes in through the large windows and Armie remains in bed, his blue eyes glued to the ceiling and the sheets covering his naked body. He didn't get any sleep during the night, every time he dared to close his eyes, all he could see was Timothée, which forced him to stay wide awake, consumed in memories, pain and anger.

It's never an easy thing to end a relationship, but it's even worse when a relationship that barely had the chance to start crumbles to the ground, especially when you know the depth of your feelings for the other person. Armie was in love, in a way he never really expected to be, and while he tried his best to understand Timothée, he couldn't fight off the anger that kept building up inside of him.

He felt betrayed, played and stupid, but he also felt like the worse human being on earth for putting all the blame into Timothée. The truth is Taylor was right, he knew the risks of getting involved with Timothée, he knew his issues and fears, but he allowed himself to believe that things would be different with him. Inebriated by love, Armie thought he was the key to help Timothée, but he clearly forgot to ask if Timothée even wanted any help.

He sighs, buries his face in his hands and then sits up on the bed, tossing the sheets to the side. His eyes wander around the house, seeing the mess that he left the night before. When his eyes land on Archie, who nestles himself in between his feet, Armie manages to smile just a little. He picks him up, lays him on the bed beside him and strokes his fur, finding some sort of comfort when Archie starts sniffing and licking him.

_ You need to get yourself together _ , a voice screams inside his head and he knows it's absolutely right. There's so much he needs to do, including the thousands of photos that are waiting to be edited, he can't simply lie in bed for the rest of the day, sulking on his sorrow and pain. He was never the type to back down, and if his mom's illness didn't stop him, a heartbreak wouldn't do the trick.

He kisses the top of Archie's head, places him down on the floor and gets up, heading straight to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, the ice cold water helping wash away his tiredness and restore his energy. He closes his eyes, lets the water run down his body and sighs, trying his very best to gather all the strength left in him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


It´s past three in the afternoon when Timothée finally makes it out of bed, his feet dragging him around the apartment. His green eyes don´t have the usual sparkle, his body feels heavier than normal and his head is pounding after hours lying awake in bed. It was a brutal night, where all he did was think about Armie, the look in his eyes as their gaze met for the last time, just before he drove off. There was something there that Timothée had not seen before and it crushed him, because in his mind, Armie would always be a cheerful and loving guy.

_ It´s all your damn fault _ , he thinks to himself while leaning against the kitchen counter, his head buried in his hands as he sighs heavily. He is right, whatever Armie is feeling right now is his fault; he should have kept his distance, denied that very first kiss and ignored Chris´s advices. If he had not allowed himself to feel so much, right now he wouldn´t be going through any of this.

He inhales deeply, lets out the air and then pushes himself off of the counter, his eyes wandering through the kitchen for a couple of seconds. He opens the fridge and the cupboards, grabs some of the stuff Zoe -or Chris- bought for him and lays it all on the counter, swiftly working on a sandwich, which should help him feel a bit more like himself. And if that isn´t possible, at least he will feel like a goddamn human being.

With his mouth full and a plate in his hand, Timothée heads over to the living room, throwing himself on the couch and reaching for his laptop. He turns it on, the bright light hurting his eyes a bit, although he quickly gets used to it. A couple of pages immediately pop up on the screen, including another email alert on his father, which makes his headache only worse.

"You´re so fucking stupid," he mumbles and opens the email, taking a quick look at the alert before turning off the function. He doesn´t need his father´s ghost creeping up on him every other day, and right now he definitely doesn´t need the bad memories he brings him. He already has enough pain inside of him to have to deal with anything else.

Focused on at least trying to get some work done, he takes a few sips of coffee, pushes his hair back and opens a file, staring at the cursor that blinks non stop. As difficult as it might be, writing about Armie could actually be what he needs to make it through all of this.

_ This is not your usual profile.... _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


There are conflicting thoughts clouding Armie´s mind as he drives down the road, the sign that indicates Scarsdale entrance quickly passing him by. At one point, he feels like a total coward for leaving Brooklyn in the hopes he will stay as far away from Timothée as possible, but at the same time, he knows there are only two people in the world that can comfort him no matter how bad he is feeling.

Besides, the simple thought of seeing his mother again brings a wide smile to his face and he knows that´s exactly what he needs right now. Surrounded by the love and comfort of his parents, there might be a chance for him to push back the thoughts of Timothée and ease the pain he is feeling. Not to mention, the thought of waking up to his father´s famous french toast wasn´t at all a bad idea.

He reaches to the side, gently stroking Archie´s fur as he peacefully stares out of the window, his ears up and his tongue out. He always loved to drive around, made him even more relaxed than he already was, which still amused Armie. He was used to seeing agitated dogs, that would bark all the time and never stop moving, but Archie was truly one of a kind. 

"We´re almost there, buddy."

He winks as Archie turns to face him, barking twice before turning back to the window, staring at the trees that pass them by. The streets are filled with the most varied type of flowers and trees, a bucolic feel compared to the never ending chaos in New York.

He opens the window to his side, inhales deeply and then exhales, allowing his body and mind to relax for a moment. As it turns out, it seems like he was right to leave the house, taking a few days for himself could be a lot more helpful than he could have ever predicted.

He turns a corner, slowing down as he reaches the last house in the street. He parks the car, stares at it for a second and notices his father sitting on the porch, a newspaper in one hand and a mug in the other. He grabs his backpack on the back seat, takes a hold of Archie´s collar and pulls him with him, slamming the door shut once he hops off.

Armie smiles the moment he steps away from the car and looks at his father, who immediately gets up, a confused look upon his face. He chuckles, nods his head and quickly makes his way over, hugging him as tight as he possibly can. It´s been over a month since they last saw each other and after everything that happened, his hug feels like the greatest place to be in.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

"You try to make a surprise and that´s how you´re welcomed."

Paul scoffs, playfully punching Armie´s shoulder, before kneeling down and taking Archie on his arms. He looks up at Armie, an inquisitive look on his face.

"I knew you were back, but I thought you would like to spend a few days with your friends and your boyfriend before coming here."

"He´s not my boyfriend, dad," he quickly says. "Actually, we´re nothing."

"What happened?"

Armie shrugs. "We can talk about this some other time, okay? Right now I want to know how you and mom are doing."

"We´re doing great, kid. We went out for a walk this morning, then she helped me cook lunch, now she´s in the back taking care of her garden. And as you´d expect, she won´t let me help, because apparently I suck at it."

"You kind of do," he chuckles as Paul shoots him a look. "But you never give up trying and that´s a good thing."

"Always taking your mother´s side, huh?"

"What can I say? I´m a momma´s boy."

Paul chuckles, standing back up. He lands a hand on Armie´s shoulder, his blue eyes scanning him up and down; he can see there´s something wrong and that Armie is desperately trying to hide it.

"You sure you´re alright?"

"Honestly? I´m not at my best right now, but I know spending the weekend with you guys will help me."

"You can tell me anything, son."

"I know and I will, just not now, okay?" Paul nods and Armie smiles, hugging him once again. "I´m gonna go talk to mom, you stay with Archie?"

"Of course."

Armie pats his back, smiles at him one last time and then enters the house, throwing his backpack to the couch before walking through the living room and the kitchen, opening the door that leads to the backyard. He stands on the porch for a couple of seconds, his eyes attentive to his mother´s every move. She looks calm and happy, which is enough to make him feel a lot better.

"Need any help with that?"

She looks up immediately, the look of surprise in her face quickly turning into a wide and beaming smile. She stands up, walking as fast as she possibly can towards Armie, who rushes down the steps and meets her halfway. They embrace each other, faces buried in each other's neck while Armie gently strokes her back and smiles as he feels her tug on his shirt.

"I didn´t expect to see you so soon, sweetheart."

"I didn´t expect to come so soon either, but after I settled in, it felt like the right thing to do."

"I´m so happy to see you."

"I´m happy to see you too, mom. You have no idea."

"Did you bring him?"

Armie shakes his head, his eyes down as his mom cradles his face.

"Talk to me."

"It didn´t work between us, mom."

"Well, too bad for him," Armie chuckles as she smiles. "You´re gonna be alright."

"I know I will."

"And I´m here for whatever you need."

"That´s why I am here."

"Come on in, I´ll make you some pancakes."

"I´m not gonna say no to that."

"You better not," she shoots him a look. "Otherwise I would force you to eat it."

Armie laughs, nodding his head. "I know that´s true."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Zoe nearly screams through the loud music, the bright lights that dance around the club a little too much for her. She put on her best clothes, worked on the best makeup she could do and yet, as she finds herself leaned against the bar, she ponders if this was the right way to deal with things.

Timothée was in pain, even if he didn´t want to admit it to himself or others, he needed time to heal and think about what had happened. Drowning himself in booze and dancing around with thousands of strangers didn´t really feel like the right way to cope with things, specially when she knew this time he was actually hurting.

She knew his pattern well, he would go out with some guy a couple of times, have his fun and the minute he realized the guy wanted something more, he would ghost them, pretend nothing ever happened and wait for the moment they got tired of running after him. But because she knew this so well, she also could tell that dumping Armie was something completely different and life changing to him; he actually had feelings for someone this time and Zoe knew this was a new territory, which probably left him even more scared of the commitment than he already was.

If there was anything she could do to help, she would.

"Timothée?!," she nearly shouts in his ear, pulling on his arm so he can finally turn to face her. "Are you sure you want to stay here? We can go grab some burgers, or call Chris and just watch a movie at my place."

"We´re not calling Chris for anything and yes, I want to stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I´m sure," he smiles wide, although it is easy for anyone to notice it´s not genuine. "All I want to do today is have fun, Zoe, because I deserve it."

Zoe sighs, shakes her head and leans back on the counter, her eyes wandering around the crowded bar. She feels a tap on her shoulder, turns to the side and frowns as she sees Timothée slide a couple of shots in her direction. She has a bad feeling about this whole thing.

"I don´t think you should drink too much."

"Jesus Christ, Zoe, why are you acting like we just left a funeral?"

"Timothée, this is not the way to deal with things."

"Deal with what?"

"Are you fucking serious? You´re gonna pretend nothing happened?"

"Zoe, you assigned me a job and I did it. Now everything is over and we´re all gonna have to move on with our lives."

Zoe remains in silence, the look in Timothée´s eyes something she has never seen before. He´s completely lost and doesn´t want to admit it.

"Now if you excuse me," he says before taking a shot of Tequila. "I´m gonna go hit the dance floor and have some fun."

"Timothée...," he leaves before she can finish, leaving her all alone as he dives into the crowded dance floor. She sighs, reaches for her phone and quickly texts Chris, hoping he would come down to rescue her and most importantly, Timothée.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah, things might seem hopeless right now, but just imagine the craziness it will be once these two face each other again ;)


	24. Ghost of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of motherly love

Chris sighs as he notices Timothée moving on the bed, his hands rubbing his face before he can even open his eyes. He bites his lip, closes the book he has in his hands and turns to look at his friend, an eyebrow cocked as his eyes meet Timothée's confused ones.

He watches as he sits down on the bed, rubbing his eyes before taking a quick look around him. His hair is disheveled, his clothes clinging to his body and there's dried drool on the corner of his mouth. He looks absolutely terrible.

"Why are you even here?," Timothée mumbles, the horrible taste in his mouth making him frown.

"Zoe had to leave, so she asked me to keep an eye on you."

"Do I look like a child?"

"You don't look like one, but you're certainly acting like one right now."

"And who are you to give me a lecture? Jumping from guy to guy like there's no tomorrow? You're no better than me, Chris."

"I never said I was better, but we are different and there's no denying that. While you hide away your feelings, pretending not to care about anyone that dares to come close to you, I relish on being close to someone and finding people that I connect with somehow. Maybe my relationships have not worked, but at least I have tried."

"Have you ever considered that I don't want to try?"

"Yes, I did," he nods, turning his body so he's fully facing Timothée. "For a while anyway, then I realized that you were just scared. Which is really sad, because you've wasted so many opportunities to be happy."

"I am happy."

"For how long are you gonna keep lying to yourself, Tim? You're not happy, but you did find a glimpse of happiness while with Armie, but since you always allow your fear to speak louder than anything else, you've ended up in this mess."

"You must have a lot of balls to come to my house and talk to me like this."

"I'm your friend, I want what's best for you and if I'm being tough is because it's the only way to get you to listen to me."

"I don't wanna listen to you, Chris, because the last time I did that, I ended up falling down a trap that was almost impossible to leave."

Chris scoffs, shaking his head. "Kissing Armie, allowing yourself to be with him and having fun was not a trap, Timothée. You're so used to letting go of people before something deeper happens, that you now believe what you are doing is the right thing. But you need to listen to me, Tim, you need to realize that this is killing you from inside out and if you don't do something about it now, it might be too late."

"I think I am old enough to know how to live my life, so there's no need for your speeches. You can go home now and leave me alone, because right now that's all I need."

Chris nods, immediately getting up. "You don't wanna listen, but there's no need to worry, I'll be here whenever you want to talk."

He sighs, tucks his hands in his pocket and walks over to the door, feeling Timothée's eyes on him the whole time. He stops, takes a look over his shoulder and tries his best to show his friend all he wants is to help.

"Your mom called, by the way, over ten times."

"Of course she did," he hears him mumble before closing the door behind him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie wakes up to the sound of chatter and the smell of freshly brewed coffee, which immediately puts a smile on his face. He rolls around on the bed, lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, still unable to fully erase Timothée from his mind, but after nearly half a day with his parents, he already feels a lot better.

He pushes himself up, opens the windows and inhales deeply, his eyes wandering around the quiet streets. The one good thing about being in Scarsdale is the quietness and peace that provides him, which always helps him center himself. He pushes the curtains as open as possible, allowing the Sun to come in, turns on his heels and heads to the bathroom, jumping into the shower.

As soon as he gets out, Armie throws in some clean clothes and then heads down the stairs, a wide smile as he hears his mother's laughter. He heads to the kitchen, leans against the wall and silently watches them. If one day he can have a relationship that comes anywhere near what his parents have, Armie will feel blessed and complete. They have been through so much already and always seemed to find a way to deal with things calmly and with sense of humor.

"Hey," his mom smiles wide as she finally notices him, gesturing for him to come closer.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, kiddo," Paul kisses his temple, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did."

"I cooked scrambled eggs, some bacon and of course, waffles."

"You didn't have to do all of this, mom."

"I know, but you're my son and I want to spoil a little bit. Can I do that?"

Armie nods, sliding his arm down her waist and bringing her closer. "You can do anything, mom."

"Oh, don't say that or she'll believe you."

He chuckles, kisses his mom's temple and then sits down on the counter, reaching for a plate and a fork. He takes a slice of bacon, stuffs his mouth with it and nearly moans in delight, kissing his mom's cheek afterwards.

Victoria rolls her eyes, but the beaming smile she's got on her lips is nearly impossible to hide. She moves closer to Armie, pours some coffee in a mug and then slides over to him, her free hand never leaving his thigh.

"So, you ready to tell us what happened?"

"Victoria..."

"What?," she shrugs while looking at Paul. "Are we supposed to spend the whole weekend avoiding the conversation? Our son might need our help and the only way to do so is by knowing what happened."

"It's okay," he nods towards his father, a reassuring look on his face. "Timothée simply wasn't ready for anything concrete, so he thought it would be better to end things as soon as we got back home. Is not that deep, really."

"Except you're clearly in love with this guy," Victoria's voice is soft and tender, but it doesn't help with the pain that washes over Armie whenever he even thinks about his feelings for Timothée. "And an abrupt end can cause a lot of pain."

"It shouldn't though, because I knew exactly what I was getting myself into."

"What you mean?"

"From day one I knew he wasn't keen on a commitment, dad. He's got some scars from the past, which keep him from fully opening up and allowing himself to be with someone. For a moment, I thought I was different and that I could help him get over this, but clearly I was wrong."

"Give him time, maybe that's all he needs."

"I don't know, mom. I don't think he's ready or willing to get over those fears of his. Maybe, we're simply not meant to be."

Victoria steals a quick glance at Paul before turning to Armie, cradling his face in her hands. "You're one of the most precious people I have ever met, Armie. You're kind, generous, talented and intelligent, I'm lucky to call you my son and I know that one day you'll find someone who will love you as much as you deserve."

Armie keeps his eyes down as he nods. "I hope you're right."

"I am," she pulls him closer, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he buries his face in the crook of her shoulder.

A little bit of motherly love is all he needs right now.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Clouds start to fill up the sky, turning what used to be bright blue into a light shade of grey. Umbrellas of all shapes and colors came to view, while kids enjoyed the first few raindrops, laughing and sticking their tongues out. Sitting quietly on the bench under the living room window, Timothée has his notebook laying on his lap and his pencil dangling from his fingers.

After Chris left earlier in the morning, Timothée called his mother, prepared himself some tea and went back to bed, tucking himself under the sheets. It didn´t take him long to fall back asleep, waking up only three hours later, his stomach growling with hunger while his head kept on pounding. He feared it would take him the entire day to get over his hangover, but at least he already felt more like a decent human being.

He scoffs at that thought, wondering if he will ever feel like a decent person again after what he did to Armie. While he knows he is only doing what is best for himself, keeping himself from suffering, he can´t stop thinking about Armie and how he is feeling at the moment. He wishes he had the guts to call or text him, but at the same time, Timothée knows at this particular moment he is the last person Armie wants to hear from. And he doesn´t blame him at all.

Right now, Armie probably wants to erase him from his mind, much like Timothée wishes he could do with him, although he is aware that there´s absolutely no chance of that happening, at least not until he finishes his article.

With a sigh, he shuts down the notebook and throws it to the ground along with the pencil, pushing himself up afterwards. He takes one last look at the window, a soft but small smile appearing on the corner of his lips as he sees a couple pass by, then heads over to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. The sound of the intercom comes before he can finish his drink, but he makes it around the counter and lazily heads to the door, pressing the telephone against his ear.

"Yes?"

"Hey, it´s me."

Those three words are enough for him to recognize it´s Zoe, her voice very distinguished even with the bad communication of the intercom system, which happens every time it rains. He presses the small button on the device and less than two seconds afterwards, hears the faint sound of the gates opening downstairs.

"Thanks!"

He pulls the phone down, unlocks the door and heads back to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets in search of something for him to eat again. One of the worst parts of being hungover to Timothée is the constant need he feels for water and food. He groans, realizing he needs to rush to the grocery store, but turns around quickly as he hears the door open.

Zoe pokes her head inside, her big brown eyes scanning the entire place until her gaze finally lands on him, who tries his best to smile. She gives him a small nod, closes the door behind her and sways a brown bag in her hands.

Timothée sighs in relief when he reads the words Taco Bell in the bag and gestures for her to come closer, which she does immediately. "Is this your shift?"

"What?," she asks a bit confused while hopping on one of the stools.

"You and Chris," he explains. "Are you two taking turns in chaperoning me?"

"Well, that wasn´t our plan, but if we deem it necessary, we might do it."

"I´m not a child anymore, Zoe, you two don´t need to keep an eye on me."

"I wish that was true, but considering how you were acting last night, it seems to me you´re in need of more help than you might realize."

"I drank a little bit too much," he reaches for one of the tacos, bringing it closer to him along with a little cup of sour cream. "There´s no need to make a fuss over it, let alone ask Chris to watch out for me while I sleep."

"You drank your entire weight in booze last night, Timothée, acted like a complete jerk and if it wasn´t for Chris, you probably wouldn´t have made it back here. You should feel lucky you have friends who care enough about you to go through all this shit, because some people would have left you all alone to fend for yourself."

Timothée blinks a couple of times, his mind just now processing the fact he barely remembers what happened the previous night.

"I´m sorry if I put you through some difficult moments last night."

"You scared the shit out of me, Timothée, so much that I had to call Chris so he could help."

"I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to do that."

"I know you didn´t," she nods, reaching out for his hand, which she gently strokes. "I also know you´re hurting and admitting that is the first step to making things better."

"I´m not hurting, Zoe."

"Yes, you are," she smiles. "I know you didn´t like the things Chris said and I admit he was rough with you, but he was also right. You can´t keep suppressing your feelings, Timothée, that´s not the answer."

"Zoe, I think I know what´s best for myself."

"You think you know what´s best for yourself, Timothée, but you´re so worried about getting hurt, you don´t see that this lifestyle you chose for yourself is destroying you from inside out. I get it, you don´t wanna get hurt, no one wants to, but avoiding any other type of feeling in order to do so, it's not the answer. You're in love with Armie and the least you can do right now is accept and admit those feelings, even if you choose not to be with him."

Speechless, Timothée simply stares at Zoe, her words echoing inside his head. He feels lightheaded, confused and on the verge of throwing up. There´s so much going on inside of him, he doesn´t even feel like himself anymore.

"I´m not gonna sit here and talk away, because I have a feeling you´re not gonna listen, but I wish you would stop for a minute and at least try to think about what Chris and I have said. You deserve better things than a life of loneliness, Timothée, you deserve to love and be loved. So please, don´t let life pass you by without even trying to achieve happiness."

"Who says I´m not happy?"

"Your eyes," she says with a shrug as Timothée bites his lip. "And they have always been quite revealing."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


While in Brooklyn the rain falls non stop, in Scarsdale the Sun still shines bright on the blue sky. Sitting on the large wooden bench by the porch, Archie on his lap and his camera sitting on the coffee table alongside a glass of iced tea, Armie stares into space, his mind swirling with dozens of thoughts that he simply can´t push back no matter how much he tries. And he has tried quite a lot.

Archie moves on his lap and Armie instantly looks down, stroking his fur as the front door opens. He raises his gaze to catch his father staring at him while leaned against the threshold, a smile on his face despite the worry he sees in his eyes. Armie knows they are worried, and he wishes he could do something to help change that, but he can barely help himself right now, let alone his parents.

"How you doing, kiddo?," Paul asks while taking a seat beside Armie, his hand moving to pet Archie.

"I´m alright," he lies while trying to put on a smile. "You guys don´t have to worry about me."

"We are your parents, Armie, what you´re asking is nearly impossible."

Armie nods, turning his gaze down.

"Look, Armand..."

"Jesus, what the fuck?"

"Is so you know I mean business," Paul says between chuckles as Armie shakes his head. "But seriously, I know you better than you might imagine and I can tell when you´re going through a difficult moment. I know your feelings for Timothée are strong, and that right now things might feel hopeless, but you have to trust me when I say it will get better with time. You might never forget him, but eventually you will learn how to deal with the memories and the pain he left behind."

Armie bites his lip, his father´s words hitting him harder than he expected. He wishes things were easier, that he could simply delete Timothée from his mind and pretend nothing ever happened between them.

"I never felt anything like this before, dad. The moment I saw him for the first time, I knew there was something different about him, so much that I was speechless for nearly two whole minutes. Still, back then I had no idea what he would mean to me, or how much pain he would put me through. I mean...," he sighs, shaking his head. "I don´t even know if I can say he is the one putting me through all of this, because he never lied to me, he never gave me any hope of a real relationship. I projected something onto us even though I knew he wasn´t ready for it, that he might never be ready for it."

"Armie, relationships are complicated and sometimes we like to think our love is enough for both. You say Timothée is scared, then I say that things might not be completely lost."

"You don´t know him, dad, he´s a tough one. I´m not sure he would ever let his shield down enough to admit his feelings or jump into a relationship for real, he´s too scared of getting hurt."

"And why is that? As far as I know, he´s a smart and successful journalist. What happened to him?"

"Lets just say not all families are like ours, and some people get scars deeper than others."

Paul nods, although it is clear he´s still slightly confused, but it doesn´t feel right to Armie to talk about Timothée´s family issues like this. He had his reasons to keep things to himself and no matter how angry or disappointed he was at him right now, Armie would respect him.

"You don´t wanna talk about it," Paul eventually says while reaching out for Armie, squeezing his shoulder.

"You taught me to respect others' decisions and opinions. Timothée is not here to say his true, so I don´t feel good doing it for him."

"Armie, I´m proud of you, I hope you know that."

"I know."

"Your mom too," Armie simply nods this time. "And she was right, you´re young and you will find someone who loves you just as much as you love them."

* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée lays down on the couch, his eyes stuck to the ceiling as he is washed away by Zoe and Chris´s words, the look in their eyes as they tried to get through him. It would be stupid to say he didn´t understand where they were coming from, but he also wouldn´t be honest if he said he agreed with them. He knows he has made mistakes, know that he has hurt some people along the way, but he still believes this is the only way to keep himself whole.

He feels a couple of tears form in his eyes and immediately closes them, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. He needs to get himself together, find something to occupy his mind with, otherwise he doubts he will ever be able to forget Armie.

_ Good luck doing that, idiot. _

He groans, pushes himself up and stares out the window, wishing the rain would stop, so at least he could take a walk around the neighborhood, maybe even go all the way to Manhattan and get a nice cup of coffee at La Cafeteria. Right now he wishes a lot of things about his life would be different.

The doorbell rings suddenly, bringing him back to reality and causing him to frown. He waits, hears the doorbell go off again and lazily drags himself around the apartment, opening the door immediately, his eyes going wide as he sees who's standing right in front of him.

This was not the distraction he was looking for.

"Mom?"


	25. What Could Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends and old habits.

"Mom?"

Timothée´s voice is low, barely a whisper as he stares at his mother, who stands just a couple of inches away from him, curly black hair pulled back in a ponytail and a wide smile on her pink lips. He swallows dryly, his body unable to move as he tries to understand what the hell is happening.

"Hello, sweetie."

"Mom," he repeats and for a moment it seems like this is the only word he can utter right now. "What are you doing here?"

"When I talked to you on the phone, I felt like something wasn´t right, so I decided it was my duty as a mother to come here and check on you."

"Mom, I thought we agreed to warn one another whenever we decided to visit."

"And since you never do, here I am."

She shrugs, winks at Timothée and swiftly walks past him, throwing her bag to the side. She stops in the middle of the living room, hands in her hips as her eyes wander all around the apartment, before landing back on Timothée.

"This place is a mess."

"I was on a road trip, got back two days ago and didn´t have time to clean it up."

"Oh yeah, the road trip you didn´t told me about."

"Mom, I´m twenty four years old and I live on my own, I don´t need to account you of every step I take."

"You might be twenty four, but I´m still your mother and in this world, this crazy and cruel world, it´s just you and me, Timmy."

"You´re here for literally two minutes, please don´t start."

"You know it´s true, Timmy. You know in the end is gonna be just you and me, it has been that way from the beginning."

"There was dad at some point."

"Your father is nothing more than a footnote in our history."

Timothée sighs, runs his fingers through his hair and takes a couple of steps closer to his mother, whose smile never seems to disappear.

"How long do you plan on staying, mom?"

"I don´t know, but I brought enough clothes for at least a week."

"A week? Mom, I have to work, I can´t be here with you all the time."

"I´m sure your friend can let you off the hook for a few days, Timmy."

"I have been off work for three weeks, I just got back and I have a very important article to write, mom. You can´t stay here for that long, do you understand that?"

As a serious expression takes her over, Lara walks over to Timothée, cradling his face in her hands. "You know I want what´s best for you, right?"

"I know that, mom. I also know you know that sometimes you can be a little overwhelming."

"I know," she nods while patting his cheek. "But I promise you I´m here only to help. You said you have a very important article to write, then focus on that while I make sure you have a clean apartment and homemade meals."

Timothée stares at her, that knowing look in her eyes. He has been in this situation a thousand times before, when she promises him she will back off and give him space, but after an hour she´s already suffocating him. With all the work he has to do with the article, the pain of what he did to Armie, having his mother around is the last thing he needs.

"Now, it´s getting late and I think we both could use some nice dinner. I´m gonna cook us some pasta, meanwhile you can tell me everything about that road trip of yours. That sounds nice, doesn´t it?"

Timothée can only nod, already dreading how the next couple of days might go.

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

The drastic change in weather caught everyone in Scarsdale by surprise, but not even that made Armie change his plans. He woke up early, put on his sweatpants and sweater, hoodie covering his head and headed out of the house, jogging around the neighborhood. It had become clear to him over the years that physical exercise helped when he wanted to clear his mind and forget about everything and everyone around him.

And since forgetting Timothée was exactly what he wanted to do, Armie ran as fast as he possibly could, feeling the sweat run down his forehead and the muscles on his leg burn while he dodged the puddles of water and mud. The rain didn't seem bother him at all, neither did the looks he got from a couple of the locals, some who simply did not recognize him and others who probably thought he was a bit crazy.

It's only when he feels his cheeks flush and his chest heavy, making it more difficult to breath that he stops, hands resting on his knees as he inhales deeply and repeatedly. He closes his eyes for a brief second, allows his heartbeat to slow down and then stands up straight, blue eyes wandering around the nearly desert street.

He spots a little convenience store and crosses the street, pushing the door open. He pulls his hoodie down while roaming around the store, humming softly as he searches for a bottle of water. His shoulders hurt, his legs are tired and all his clothes feel a lot heavier than usual now that they are wet, but he'll just have to deal with it.

"Armie Hammer, is that really you?"

The familiar voice seems to fill the air of the shop and although Armie knows he hasn't heard that voice in quite a few years, he knows exactly who it belongs to. He closes the fridge, turns on his heels and can't help the look of surprise that takes him over as he is face to face with the tall, blond and dark brown eyed man. Speechless, Armie stands still for a moment, simply staring back at the guy, who is in jogging clothes just like him.

"Sam?," he finally manages to say.

"The one and only," he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans against the fridge, eyeing Armie up and down. "What are the odds of us running into each other here?"

"My parents moved here a couple of years ago," Armie explains. "But I definitely didn't expect to run into you."

"I moved here about a month ago," as Armie cocks an eyebrow, Sam chuckles. "Kind of hard to believe, right?"

"A little bit. I mean, you used to love the big city, so forgive me for not really seeing you as a Scarsdale type of guy."

"Nah, it's okay. I never expected to move here, but I got a job offer that was nearly impossible to say no to."

"And how are you doing here?"

"Still trying to get used to it, to be honest, but work is good and my neighbors seem like nice people."

"That's a start."

He nods, the smile never leaving his face. "What about you? How you doing?"

"I´m doing alright. Been a while since I´ve been here, so decided it was time to come and spend some time with my parents."

"How long you're staying?"

"I leave on Monday."

"Already?," Armie shrugs and Sam nods slowly. "What you say we get together later today and get some drinks? It's been a while since we saw each other, I'm sure there's a lot for us to talk about."

Armie bites is lip, not really sure of what to say. Him and Sam had a few moments back in university, ephemeral things that never really moved to anything serious, but agreeing to go out for drinks with him seemed like agreeing to go on a date, which was not something he was ready to do right now.

"Why don't I give you my phone number and you text me later?"

"Yeah, that's okay."

"Also, there's no pressure, you can say no if you want to. I promise I won't hold a grudge."

Armie chuckles softly while handing Sam his phone. He eyes him up and down, noticing the tiny little changes he sees in him, the way he carries himself now is definitely of a much more confident man, not that he wasn't already confident -and sometimes cocky- back in university. Armie bites his lip, realizing he's still as handsome as before, still got a nice body and as he stands there waiting to get his phone back, Armie remembers how much he loved to have him whispering against his ear while they had sex.

"Here," he says while handing Armie the phone. "Do with it whatever you please."

Armie nods and Sam winks before turning on his heels, taking a few steps away from him. He stops not too far away though, looks over his shoulder and smiles.

"It was nice seeing you again, Hammer."

The way he says his name does bring Armie memories, but sadly not of him. He absolutely loved whenever Timothée called him by his last name, so hearing someone else do so now felt weird and wrong.

"It was nice seeing you too."

**  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Armie takes off his hoodie the moment he enters the house, tossing it over his shoulder as he walks through the living room and over to the kitchen, where his parents are seated. He squeezes his father's shoulder and pats his back, walks over to his mother and leans down to kiss her temple, chuckling as she turns around on the chair to hug him.

"Where were you?"

"I went out for a run."

"On the rain?"

He shrugs, taking a seat beside her and reaching for the coffee pot. "Whenever I have too much in my head, I like to go out for a run, mom. It helps me concentrate on the important stuff and push back all the unnecessary thoughts I have."

"But did you really have to go while it was raining? You might get sick, Armie."

"I'll hop in the shower as soon as I finish breakfast, there's no need to worry."

Victoria simply sighs, not feeling strong enough to have this argument right now. She takes another bite of her toast, leans back on the chair and takes a deep breath, her face rather pale.

"Are you okay, mom?"

"Just a bit tired."

"Are you sure that's all?"

She nods, sliding a hand across Armie's shoulder. "You don't have to worry, kid. This is just one of those days where I can't really do much, but as long as I rest and drink lots of water, I will be feeling brand new tomorrow."

Armie glances over at his father, who simply shrugs. He feels his mother squeeze his shoulder and looks back at her, a small smile appearing on the corner of her lips.

"Hey, I mean it, you don't have to worry about me."

"Remember when you said you were my mother and asking you not to worry about me was like asking for something impossible? Well, it's same for me, okay? It's impossible not to worry about you, specially when I know this..."

"Armand, please."

He sighs, takes her hands and kisses it. "I'm sorry, but I'm just being honest. I'll never stop worrying about you, but I will stop talking about this right now."

"Thank you," she whispers while leaning closer to kiss his cheek.

"So...," Paul starts, trying to change the subject. "How was the run? Anything interesting out there?"

"It's Scarsdale, dad," he mocks as Paul shoots him a look. "I did run into an old friend from university though."

"Who?"

"Sam Walsh," he takes a few sips of coffee. "We went out a couple of times, but didn't really see each other ever since we left university."

"And what is he doing here?"

"He moved here about a month ago."

"Well, that's cool," Victoria nudges Armie, a little smirk on her face. "Are you seeing him again while you're here?"

"He asked if I wanted to grab a couple of drinks tonight, but I'm not sure is a good idea."

Paul frowns. "And why is that?"

"I got dumped three days ago, dad."

"I'm sorry, maybe I'm missing something here. Did he ask you on a date? Did he ask you to be his boyfriend?"

"No, of course not," Armie chuckles.

"Then I don't see a problem in going out with an old friend. Besides, there's absolutely nothing wrong in having fun, it might even help you."

"Your father is right, Armie. You're young and you should be having fun instead of being locked in this house with us old people."

"I came here to be with you guys."

"And one night out won't change that."

"I don't know, it's just..."

"Look, you must do what's best for you. But you should take some time to think about it before deciding anything, okay? No one is gonna judge you if you decide to have fun."

Armie stares at his dad for a moment, then nods his head. "I'll think about it."

**  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

Timothée wakes up from his nap a little confused, so many dreams squashed inside his head, so many thoughts and voices he can´t seem to shut down. If that -and the fear of not being able to actually deliver a good article- wasn´t enough, having his mother around had already proved to be a mistake. In less than twenty four hours, she had already been her suffocating self more than he could have expected; if he allowed, she would have tucked him in bed.

He sighs, rubs his eyes and turns around, too surprised to demonstrate any kind of emotion when he sees Lara standing by the mirror, her fingers tracing the small Polaroid photo he has tucked in between the mirror and frame. He swallows dryly, eyes wide as he slowly sits down, trying to understand exactly what she was doing there.

"Mom?"

"Who´s this?," is all she asks while turning to face him, the Polaroid now in her hand.

"That´s Armie," he nearly whispers, still not sure why he decided it would be a good idea to keep that photo. "He´s the guy I´m writing about."

Lara nods, her eyes going from the Polaroid to Timothée. "He´s handsome."

"He is."

"You like him, don´t you?"

"No, I don´t."

"I´m your mother, Timothée. You may not realize, but I know everything about you, just like I am the only one who truly knows what´s best for you."

Timothée simply nods, not sure of where this conversation is going and not at all thrilled to find out. He bites his lip as Lara walks over to him, sits down beside him on the bed and takes his hand in hers, stroking it gently.

"He´s not good for you."

"I´m sorry?"

"He´s not good enough for you, Timmy."

"You´ve never met him, mom, how´d you know that?"

"I just know," she shrugs. "There are such nice boys in my neighborhood though, guys you would really get along with and I am sure it could even lead to something more. Although, you know you need to be extra careful, because men really are all garbage."

"You do know that implies so am I, right?"

"You´re different."

"Of course I am," he mumbles while looking down at their hands. He's grown used to her trying to manage his friends or her constant reminder of all the ways he could get hurt in life, but lately it has been harder and harder to deal with it. Even with the distance.

"Look, he looks handsome and I am sure your article will be great, but I can tell this thing with him wouldn´t work."

"Why not?"

"Handsome guys like this one, they don´t want anything serious, Timmy. They play with us and when they grow tired, they discard us, like we never meant anything."

Timothée nearly shivers at the words his mother uses, but only because she is basically describing what he does whenever someone gets too close.

"Mom, Armie is actually a really nice guy, but you don´t have to worry, there´s nothing going on between us."

Lara nods, rubbing his shoulder. "Well, I baked some cookies and there's fresh coffee, why don´t you come join me and we can watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," he smiles softly. "I´ll be right there."

She nods once again, laying the Polaroid down on the bed before walking out of the bedroom. Timothée reaches for it, his finger tracing it slowly, a chuckle escaping him as he remembers the day he took it.

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

It's 80's night at the little tavern, the music playing loud and the people singing even louder. Standing just a couple feet away from the door, Armie lets his eyes scan the room, not only in search of Sam, but also trying to figure out if he has actually made the right decision. While he knew his father had a point, he had all the right to go out and have fun, he also felt slightly weird going out with someone else only days after Timothée dumped him.

Even if this wasn´t exactly a date, Armie still felt like he was in some ways leading Sam on, which was something he definitely didn´t want to do. Sam was a nice guy and Armie still had fond memories of the time they spent together in university.

"Hammer!"

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears his name being called, his eyes scanning the room once more until he finds Sam at a table across the room, waving his hand as he smiles wide. Armie waves at him, takes a deep breath and heads into his direction, sliding into the empty seat right beside him.

"You actually came."

"I told you I was coming."

"I know, but you sounded a but unsure to me, so I wasn´t really hopeful."

"I don´t do that kind of thing, Sam. If I have plans with you, I will show up, no matter what happens."

"That´s why I always liked you, you know? You´re a man of your word."

Armie shrugs. "I try."

"So, let´s get some drinks? Or you want to wait a little bit more?"

"Nope, let´s get them going."

"Nice, I like your enthusiasm."

Armie chuckles, waves over to a waiter and places his order. He turns back to Sam, slightly unsure of what to say or do. It has been years since they saw each other, no matter how close they were, it feels a little awkward to simply jump back into conversation.

"So, how´s the life of Armie Hammer? I found you on Instagram a couple of days ago, I had no idea you were that popular."

"My photos are popular, not me."

"I´m sure that´s true, until they see the man behind the camera." Sam winks, leans closer and gently pats Armie´s cheek. "That face of yours charms everyone."

"Oh, shut up."

"Oh, you know it´s true."

"No, it´s not. It´s quite annoying actually, because a lot of people only see my looks, so I have to work twice as hard to be respected."

"Yeah, I can understand that."

There´s a moment of silence, the waiter showing up by Armie´s side to place a couple of beers down at the table.

"But c´mon, you didn´t answer my question."

"Which was?"

"How´s the life of Armie Hammer?"

"Right now? A little bit weird, but I´m sure I´m gonna get through it."

"Wanna talk about it? I´m a good listener."

"Huh," Armie nods. "How long do you have?"

"All the time, and the beer, in the world, my friend."

Armie chuckles, but swiftly grows a bit more serious.

"I fell in love with the wrong person."

**  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

The rain has finally stopped in Brooklyn and as Timothée walks up the stairs to the small house, he feels his heart beating faster. He´s not really used to doing this stuff, pouring his heart out to others and seeking for some kind of comfort. He´s used to solving things on his own, keeping his frustrations and fears to himself.

He knocks on the door, bouncing from one foot to the other as he waits for someone to open. He scratches the back of his neck, sighs and it´s just about to turn around when he hears the doorknob turning and the little creak of the door opening.

"What are you doing here?"

Timothée smiles softly, runs his fingers through his hair and stares at Chris in complete silence, unsure of how to even start.

"I came here because I needed to apologize for the way I treated you the last couple of days," he finally says. "Also, I needed to run away from my mother."

"She´s here?," as Timothée nods, Chris takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for him to come in. "When did she get here?"

"Last night, and as usual has managed to drive me crazy."

"I suppose it´s not exactly the best time to deal with her, right?"

"I wanted a distraction from Armie, but having my mom around is a bit too much. She´s cooking all the time, she is constantly after me, forcing me to stop working and I just don´t know what to do. It´s tiring, but I also know is partially because I´m the one getting more and more impatient with her. I´m just a terrible son, and person, to be honest."

"Okay, let´s not do this. You´re a good person, Timothée, and you know that."

"I´m not so sure anymore. At least Armie is doing a lot better without me than expected," Chris frowns and Timothée scoffs. "What? You didn´t see all his stories on Instagram? I thought you loved to stalk him."

"Just when I want to see something pretty," he mocks as Timothée chuckles. "Anyway, what exactly are you talking about?"

"He posted some shit on Instagram, about a bar and this incredibly attractive guy he´s hanging out with. Nothing too serious, you know."

Chris chuckles and shakes his head, handing Timothée a beer. "I never thought I´d see this."

"See what?"

"You being jealous of someone."

"I´m not jealous."

"Timothée, for how long are you going to keep lying to yourself? You spent the last couple of years suppresing your feelings, while also going out with people that didn´t really interest you. But now, now you have found someone who sparked something inside of you and you´re scared, I get it, but you can´t keep fighting this feeling."

"Chris, it´s not..."

"Jesus, I feel like I´ve been saying the exact same thing to you over and over again," he interrupts as Timothée sighs. "You have feelings for Armie, so go after him and do something about it."

"You don´t get it, Chris. I don´t know how to deal with any of this, okay? I don´t even know what I could do."

"You could talk to him. Go over to his place, sit down with him and explain everything that is going. Tell him you´re in love with him, but that you´re also scared and if he likes you as much as I think he does, he will understand."

"Okay, let´s say I talk to him. What happens then?," he pleads, his eyes begging for help. "Do I keep him on a leash? Do I keep him on standby until I am ready to start a real relationship? That´s not fair to him."

"You do have a point there," Chris mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. "I still think you need to sit down with him and discuss this. It might not be easy, you might not find a solution right away, but it´s better than living in the dark, not knowing what could have been."

"Look me in the eye and tell me, do you really think I got what it takes to have a relationship with someone?"

"You have a relationship with me and Zoe."

"That´s different."

"That´s something," he reassures him. "What you need now is a little bit of faith in yourself, Timmy. You can´t sit down and let this slip through your fingers, because you might be losing the best opportunity of your life."

"What if he doesn´t want me anymore?"

"It´s been three days, you can´t forget someone that easily."

"You really think I should talk to him?"

"It sure won´t make any more harm."

Timothée nods, leaning back on the couch, his finger tracing the edge of the beer bottle. "I´ll think about it."

****  
  



	26. Heartbreak Doesn´t Last Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small steps forward.

Armie wakes up with a jolt, groaning as he feels a little tingling on the back of his head. He sighs, rubs his eyes and takes a look around the place, slightly confused on his surroundings. He sits up straight, fingers running through his hair as he tries to put together the events of the previous night. He knows he drank a lot, maybe more than he should, but that's about it.

"Oh, you're awake."

He frowns as Sam's voice fills his ear, his eyes wandering over to him, who stands by the kitchen, leaned against the counter. His hair is wet and pushed back, his shirt slightly worn out and in his hands, a mug of what seems to be steaming hot coffee.

"No need to look at me like this, nothing happened," Sam quickly explains. "You were just wasted and since I live only two blocks away from the tavern, I thought it would be better to bring you here instead of allowing you to drive."

Armie nods slowly, groaning as he feels his head pounding.

"Want some coffee?"

"Yes, please."

Sam chuckles, watching as Armie nearly drags himself across the room and sits on one of the stools, taking a hold of the coffee pot and pouring himself some.

"How you feeling?"

"Not that great, to be honest."

He nods. "Judging by how much you drank, I'm not really surprised."

"Please tell me I didn't make a fool of myself."

"No need to worry," he reassures Armie. "You were just happy, laughing out loud and singing. As far as drunk guys go, you were pretty mild."

"I was singing?," Sam nods and Armie frowns, shaking his head. "Oh Jesus, that's a terrible image."

"I gotta say, I know you for a while, and that wasn't exactly your finnest moment, although not completely ridiculous."

Armie smiles a little, his finger tracing the mug. "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better."

"Bright side, you didn't try to call your ex or anything."

Armie stares at Sam for a second, fully processing his words, before he nods. "You do have a point."

"Trust me, I've done the whole  _ drink my whole weight in booze to forget a guy _ thing, so I know all the steps."

"What should I expect next then?"

"A great day of hangover."

Armie chuckles, taking a few sips of coffee. He remains in silence, eyes wandering around, exploring Sam's place. He suddenly sits up straight, eyes wide as Sam looks at him confused.

"What's wrong?"

"I told my mom I wouldn't be late, now she's gonna notice I didn't even make it home and she's gonna be worried sick."

"Momma's boy."

Armie pretends to laugh while flipping the finger at Sam, who simply chuckles.

"I'm serious, dude. She has a lot on her shoulders and she's already worried about me, I didn't want to make things even worse."

"I'm sure once you explain everything to her, she'll be glad that you didn't drive home in the state you were in. Besides, you're a grown man, and you have always been responsible, I'm sure she will give you some credit."

Armie smiles, his eyes wandering down to his mug. "Maybe you're right."

"I am, trust me."

Armie sighs, takes a look around and pushes himself up. There's a brief moment of awkwardness, where he doesn't really know what to do and what to say. He walks over to Sam, sliding a hand to his shoulder and squeezing it.

"Thanks for not letting me drive, or do anything stupid. I had a fun time with you, it was nice catching up."

"Right back at ya, dude."

"Once again thank you, but I need to go now."

"The tavern is really just two blocks away and this is Scarsdale, so you'll find your car in perfect conditions," he says while reaching out for the keys in is pockets and handing it to Armie. "Also, don't be so harsh on yourself, Hammer. Things can still work out between you and the writer, maybe you guys just need time to work things out."

Armie simply shrugs, not in the mood to discuss this subject right now. He gives Sam a quick hug, turns on his heels and grabs his boots on his way out, putting them on after he closes the door behind him. He frowns, eyes wandering around the street and takes a deep breath, slowly making his way down the street towards the old tavern.

**  
  
  
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**  
  
  
  
**

Once again, Timothée barely had any sleep at night, his conversation with Chris and the photos of Armie and the random dude flooding his mind and keeping him from functioning properly. So he resorted to hours of staring up at his ceiling, rethinking everything he has done the past couple of years, reevaluating his relationship with his mother and wondering if he could ever give himself and Armie a chance.

He exhales, pushes himself up and sits down on the bed, his feet dangling back and forth. He takes a look around, bites his lip, and rushes his fingers through his hair before getting up, slipping a large t-shirt on. He yawns, drags himself out of the bedroom, but stops by the door as he sees his mother standing by the counter, silently drinking her coffee while she flips through a magazine.

He bites his lip and frowns, his thoughts all scrambled up on his brain, although he knows he has to do or say something. He takes a deep breath, walks over to the kitchen and takes a sit across from his mother, a slight smile on his face as their eyes meet.

"You got home late yesterday."

He nods. "I went to see Chris, we had a lot to talk about."

"Oh," Lara nods and hops off of the stool, reaching for a plate on the microwave. She sits back, slides the plate over to Timothée and smiles. "I prepared you an omelet and caramelized bacon."

"Thanks," he reaches for her hand, rubbing it softly. "Mom, I need to talk to you."

"About?"

"About us," as she arches an eyebrow, Timothée sighs, sitting up straight. "Mom, I love you, but we need to work through our relationship."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mom, I know you want what's best for me and after dad left you wanted to make sure I didn't feel alone or abandoned. And trust me, I appreciate it more than you'll ever know, but things need to change. I'm a grown man, I've been living on my own for six years and while I adore the fact you care, you need to understand that I don't need you to protect me every single minute of my life."

"I just want what's best for you," she says in an almost pleading tone.

"I believe that, but you also have to understand that sometimes your behavior can be suffocating. You might have a hard time to understand it from my point of view, but your behavior has caused me pain a lot of times, mom. For years I felt like I couldn't make a decision on my own, that throwing myself out there would only cause me pain, so I shut myself down to everyone and everything. I can't do that anymore, mom, but for me to go forward, I need us to work on our relationship first."

Lara remains in silence, her green eyes watery as she stares at Timothée from across the counter. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, feels Timothée's hand reach out for her and sighs.

"Mom, I love you, but we can't go on like this. Ever since I was a child, you've been trying to protect me from everything around me, you even wanted to pick my friends because you thought that would keep me from getting hurt, but that has to stop now. You have to trust that I know what's better for me, okay?"

"I don't want to see you getting hurt, Timothée. I don't want you to ever go through the same pain I went through."

"Sadly, you can't prevent that from happening, mom. It took me some time, but I'm slowly figuring it out that the bad moments in our lives are just as important as the good ones."

"But what if..."

"I promise to always run to your arms when I'm feeling down, but I need you to let me live my life the way I want. I also need you to focus your life on something other than me, because you're still young and you can do so much with your life. Please, mom, we can both do better with our lives."

She sighs, slowly nodding her head despite the tears that stream down her cheeks.

"I... I never meant to hurt you."

"I know you didn't."

"I can't...," she sighs once again, shaking her head. "I can't promise you much, but I will try."

"Thank you," he whispers while reaching out for her hands. "Thank you."

**  
  
  
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**  
  
  
  
**

The door opens to reveal Armie, his disheveled look and tired face clear to his parents, who are sitting by the living room couch. Victoria's eyes immediately find his, a worried look on her face as she sets her mug down on the coffee table and slowly pushes herself up.

"Where were you?"

"I drank a bit too much last night, my friend noticed I wasn't good enough for driving, so he took me to his house and offered me his couch."

Victoria nodded. "And you didn't think of warning us? We were worried here, Armie."

"I know and I am sorry, I wasn't really in shape to do anything."

She sighs, her eyes wandering to Paul for a second, before returning to Armie.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yes, I'm doing fine. I mean, I got a massive hangover, but I'm doing fine."

"Armie..."

"Look, I need to take a shower and maybe get some sleep. We can talk later, okay?"

Before she can even think of answering, Armie rushes past them and up the stairs. She watches him in silence, the worry in her eyes only growing more. She sighs and turns to Paul, who's looking at her with a serious look.

"He's not doing well, Paul."

"Being in love is not easy, specially when it's not reciprocated."

"You need to talk to him."

"I've said everything I could, Victoria. It's up to him now to realize that he needs to move on."

"I hate seeing him like this."

Paul shrugs and gets up, sliding a hand down her waist and bringing her body closer to his. "I also hate this situation, Vic, but there's not much we can do right now. We just need to make sure he knows we're here for him, no matter what he needs."

She nods, a single tear falling down her cheek as she buries her face in the crook of Paul's neck, hugging him tightly.

**  
  
  
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Armie walks down the stairs with his bag hanging over his shoulder and Archie following behind, the bright Monday sun coming in through the large windows on the living room. He can see his parents sitting on the porch, mugs on their hands and wide smiles on their faces. Paul has an arm wrapped around Victoria´s shoulder, while she stares at him lovingly.

Sometimes he feels like time hasn´t really passed for them, because their love is so strong and their relationship so beautiful, to him it seems almost as if they met weeks ago and that intense and firey passion that consumes you when you meet someone new is still burning inside of them. Maybe that´s the secret to their family.

He inhales deeply, walks over to the door and leans against it, arms crossed as he watches them for a minute more. The moment they notice him, they get up, confused looks upon their faces as their eyes fall upon his backpack.

"What is happening?"

"I´m going back to New York, mom."

"Already?"

"I wish I could stay more..."

"So stay more," she interrupts him as he chuckles, shaking his head. "Maybe you could stay for the whole week."

"Like I said, I wish I could stay more, but there´s a lot of work waiting for me back home, mom."

"Can´t you do it from here?"

Armie smiles and takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them. He takes her hands in his, his thumb gently rubbing her wrists as she stares up at him, tears already forming on her eyes.

"I don´t really get much work done when I´m here, mom. Besides, this magazine contacted me, they want to work on a photoshoot and this paired up with the article that is about to come out, it can be really good for my career, so I can´t bail on them."

"I just...," she sighs, shaking her head. "I miss you so much."

"I know you do and I will be back soon," she nods and he pulls her closer, cradling her face. "I can´t promise to be here next weekend, but I will come back soon and bring those two idiots with me, alright?"

Victoria chuckles. "Alright, you know I love those idiots."

"They love you, too."

She shakes her head, cradles Armie´s face and brings him closer, kissing his cheeks repeatedly. "Please, don´t let what happened dictate your life from now on. You are young, intelligent and such a beautiful soul, you´ll soon find someone who deserves your love and who loves you as much as you deserve."

Armie simply nods.

"Also, I want you to promise me that you will eat and rest, you´re too skinny," Armie and Paul steal a quick glance at one another, laughing.

"Anything else?"

"Be safe on the road, there´s no need to rush, New York isn´t that far away. And please, call us when you get home."

He nods and hugs her, burying his face in her neck. He remains in place for a moment, then pulls away slowly and kisses her cheek. He turns on his heels, a large smile as he comes face to face with his father, who holds onto his shoulders.

"Heartbreak can be painful, but it doesn´t last forever. Maybe right now is time for you to focus on your work, on your friends and then along the way someone new will show up and swipe you off of your feet."

"Okay."

"Remember we love you."

"I love you, too."

Paul nods and brings Armie in for a tight hug, patting his back. Armie sighs, holding onto his father´s shirt for a moment before he can let go completely.

"Staying with you guys for the last three days really did help me. I feel a lot better than I did before coming here, so thank you for that."

Paul and Victoria simply nod. As Armie turns to leave, Victoria rushes over to him, bringing him in to another tight hug. He chuckles and strokes her hair, but grows slightly worried as she grips tightly onto his shirt, burying her face in his neck.

"Mom, is everything okay?," he whispers at her ear as she nods.

"Yes, I just want to hold you for a moment longer."

Armie frowns, but then nods and tightens his grip around her, placing a kiss down her shoulder.

**  
  
  
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**

The numbers light up one by one on the panel as Timothée silently stares at them, a black folder in one hand and a large cup of coffee on the other. He feels slightly trapped inside those four tiny walls, his heart beat increasing every second, almost as if he is about to walk down the death row. He closes his eyes, inhales deeply and only gets the courage to open his eyes again when he hears the small beep echoing in the elevator.

The doors open to reveal the well-known Cultural Affair office, which he´s been away from for nearly a whole month. The faces are still the same, his desk at the far left corner is still there, waiting for him to sit down and get back into work. He´s conflicted though, while a part of him knows a bit of routine will do him good, there´s another part of him that fears this whole thing might confuse him even more.

He steps out of the elevator as the doors are about to close again, gripping tightly onto the cup as he makes his way around the place. He nods at some of his colleagues, smiles down at some people who quickly pass him by and is just about to reach his desk when the very well-known voice echoes in the whole room.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Timothée places the coffee down on his desk before turning on his heels, a small but genuine smile on his face.

"Have I been fired?"

"No, you haven´t been fired."

Zoe stares at Timothée for a second, then sighs and reaches out for his hand, pulling him to her office. She locks the door behind her, pulls down the curtains to give them some privacy and then turns back to Timothée, who´s sitting on her desk, arms crossed and cocked eyebrows.

"Is everything okay, Zoe?"

"I did tell you there was no need for you to come to work this week, didn´t I?"

"Yes, you did."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?"

"What did you expect me to do, Zoe? Sit down on my bed and mourn a relationship that never even started?"

"I don´t want you to mourn anything, but the last few days have not been easy for you and I thought you´d like a couple more days to yourself."

Timothée sighs, nodding his head. "I appreciate your concern, Zoe, but there´s no need for any of that."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," he smiles. "I talked to Chris on Saturday, you know?"

"He mentioned."

"I know most of it he had already told me, but this time I truly listened to him. And I spent most of the night after that thinking of everything I did the past couple of years, my relationship with my mother and the way I treat the whole thing with my father. I can´t go on like this forever, sabotaging myself to keep any bad things from happening, but I also know things won´t change so easily."

"The fact you want to change is already a big step, Tim."

He nods. "Anyway, I´ve decided to take some time to myself, think about what I want and what I am willing to do to get it."

"And you´re sure diving back to work is gonna help you?"

"Honestly?," she nods slowly and he sighs. "I don´t know if it's gonna help or not, but I need to try. Maybe writing about Armie, finishing this article will work as some sort of therapy to me."

"Have you considered talking to him? That might be the best type of therapy you´ll find."

"That´s all I´ve been thinking for the last twenty four hours, but right now I´m not ready to face him or...," he sighs, looking down at his hands. "I´m not ready to face him or my feelings for him right now, so I need to take things slow."

"Well, considering until Friday you didn´t even admit to having feelings for the guy and now you´re saying it with no problems is quite a big step."

"No problem? I´m a better liar than I thought."

Zoe chuckles and walks over to him, wrapping her arms around his body. "I´m glad you took some time to think about everything that happened, I´m sure things are gonna get a lot easier from now on."

"I hope you´re right."

**  
  
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Being on the road was good.

Even if the drive home lasted less than an hour, being able to get inside his car, feel the wind on his face and watch as the different neighborhoods passed him by, made Armie feel a lot more relaxed and at ease with his decisions. After getting wasted with Sam, worrying his parents and going through a painful hangover, he finally came to terms with what had happened. Or at least he was starting to do so.

Sure, it still hurt that Timothée simply walked away without even giving them a chance to start something, but at the same time he accepted the fact he couldn´t force him to be with him. Timothée had his own issues to deal with and maybe he had to deal with them before diving into a relationship, otherwise things could probably end in the worst way possible.

It still sadned him that things had to happen the way they did, after all once the trip started, Armie had hopes they could at least come out as friends. But then again, his feelings for Timothée were quite intense and he doubted he could remain just his friend for long.

He parks the car in front of the house, his eyes lingering on the road for a minute before he grabs enough courage to actually step out. He grabs his bags, takes Archie under his arm and walks over to the house, locking the door behind him once he is in. With a deep breath, Armie takes a good look around the place, trying to figure out what to do first. There´s work he needs to get into, the house desperately needs some cleaning and yet a part of him wishes he could simply lie down in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

That thought is shaken away pretty easily though, after all he did promise his parents -and himself- that he wouldn´t dwell on what happened any longer. He had a whole life ahead of him and he should focus on that other than heartbreak.

He throws his bag on the couch, takes off his clothes and rushes to the bathroom, taking a quick and cold shower. The water seems to ignite something on him and slowly his energy is restored, he feels reinvigorated and ready to start off a new phase of his life. Great things can come out of sad moments, at least that´s what his grandfather used to say.

He steps out of the shower, puts on some clean clothes and rushes to the mezzanine, where he decides to start his cleaning. Just as he starts moving some equipments out of the way, he hears the doorbell ringing and swiftly runs down the stairs, a little chuckle escaping him as he sees who´s at the door.

"Don´t you guys have nothing better to do with your lives than babysit me?"

"Your mom kind of forced us to come and check on you," Lee admits as Armie shakes his head. "She texted me saying you were on your way back, but that she was worried and we should keep an eye on you. You know how loyal I am to Aunt Vic, so I am doing what she asked me to."

"I just came for the beer," Taylor shrusg while walking past Lee and Armie, a little smirk on his face.

"You do know it´s only ten in the morning, right?"

"Is that not an appropriate time for beer?"

"Not really."

He shrugs once again. "Bummer."

Armie smiles, happy to have his friends by his side as he starts to put his life back together.

"Since you two are here, what you say you help me clean this place?"

"Can I get a beer after that?"

"Yes, you can."

"Then I´m game."

"Great," Armie pats his back, while they both turn to Lee. "What you say, Lee?"

"I didn´t come here to do any heavy work."

"You never want to do any heavy work."

"You say like that is a bad thing," he teases as Taylor rolls his eyes, reaches for a broom he sees close to the door and shoves it on his chest. "Seriously?"

"Just get to work, bro."

Armie laughs, shrugs his shoulders and heads back upstairs, working on the studio while his friends work on the living room area. Soon enough they have music playing, their laughs echo around the house and they build up a rhythm to their cleaning, which makes the job a lot easier and faster.

"So, is it time I ask the difficult questions?"

Armie arches an eyebrow, leaning against the rail as he stares at Taylor. "What difficult questions?"

"You and Sam? What was that?"

"We just had a couple of beers, nothing actually happened."

"Really?," Lee asks a bit incredulous.

"Really. As it turns out he also went through a breakup not long ago, so neither one of us were really into anything other than talking."

Lee nods, his eyes wandering to Taylor for a moment, as if to try and urge him to ask the next question. He had always been a lot better at the delicate subjects than him.

"What about...," he stutters a bit, scratching the back of his neck. "What about Timothée?"

Armie shrugs. "Timothée made his decision and I should respect that, even if it doesn´t please me. All I want to do now is move on with my life, focus on the jobs I got lined up and on that exhibition in honor of my mom I´ve been talking about for a while now."

Taylor nods, leaning against the couch. "You know we´re here for whatever you need, right?"

"Yes, I do."


	27. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change isn´t easy.

The gray clouds fill up the Brooklyn skily, raindrops falling constantly on the river, creating a slow motion that is both calming and hypnotic. On the promenade, the benches are empty, the pavement nearly a ghost pathway, if it wasn't for a couple of brave people who jog despite the terrible weather.

Leaned against the rail, Armie watches the river in silence, his blue eyes concentrated on the motion of the water, while music blasts on his headphones, which are hidden by his hoodie. Despite the low temperature, he has sweat dripping down his forehead, result from almost an hour of intense running, which left him with his cheeks flushed and the muscles on his leg on fire.

He takes a step back, stretches out his arms and legs, takes a few sips of his water and starts all over again. He controls his breathing, speeds up every four steps and in a matter of seconds, he's sprinting down the pavement, the wind on his face and the rain clouding his vision from time to time. He doesn't stop though, in fact the difficulty of the task seems to entice him to keep going further and faster.

Only when he feels his chest ache and air gets hard to find is that he stops, trying his best to control his breathing before he decides to walk back home. A quick look at his watch tells him is not even eight in the morning yet, which causes him to roll his eyes. Insomnia has taken the best of him the last couple of days and he can barely function.

By the time he makes it back home, Archie is already awake by the door, happily waiting for him. It gives him some great amount of comfort to know he at least has Archie by his side, who is always ready to give him love and care. He kneels down, taking the dog in his arms and places a couple of kisses on the top of his head, chuckling as he reciprocates by licking all over his face.

He gets up, pours some food and water on Archie's bowls, then heads straight to the bathroom, his clothes scattered around the bedroom area. He allows a heavy sigh to escape him the moment the warm water falls down his body, relaxing his muscles and washing away the tiredness in his body. He closes his eyes, trying his best to clear his mind and just escape from the rest of the world for a minute, but he knows it's nearly impossible to do so.

_ It's time to move on, buddy _ . A little voice inside his head says, and he knows it's what he should do, but he also knows he can't control his feelings that way. Things will happen on their own time, and as much as he would love to rush things, maybe it's not yet the time.

Just as he steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, Armie hears the doorbell ringing. He frowns, unsure of who would be on his front door this early in the morning, but quickly makes his way out of the bathroom and across the house. Only after he opens the door, and sees the grin that quickly takes over Scarlett's face, is that he remembers he forgot to put his clothes on.

"Well, that's always a nice welcome."

He looks down at himself, then back at Scarlett, whose eyes can't help but wander down his half naked -and wet- body.

"Sorry."

"Why you apologizing, Hammer?," she chuckles, kissing his cheek before walking past him and inside the house. "It's not like I'm not used to this view, actually, I've seen a lot more of you."

Armie can't help but chuckle himself. Scarlett always had a way of amusing him, mostly because she seemed to never take anything seriously. Almost the complete opposite of....

"May I ask what you are doing here this early in the morning?"

"Well, I've been trying to come and visit you for days now, but there was always something in the way."

"Something or someone?"

She smirks, shrugging her shoulders. "Both."

"Of course."

"But seriously, I've been trying to stop by ever since you came back. And then I ran into Taylor at this bar last night, he said you were not on your best lately and I got a little worried. Is everything okay with your mom?"

"Mom is doing fine, there's nothing to worry about. Taylor was just being his usual overreacting self, Scar."

"Was he?," she cocks an eyebrow, taking a couple of steps closer to Armie, her hand resting on his bare shoulder. "I know you a lot better than you imagine, Armie, you can tell me if there's something wrong."

Armie stares at her for a minute, a million different thoughts inside his head. He could simply reach out and kiss her, maybe even take her to his bed and have sex with her, take his mind off of things for a while, but he knows it isn't right. While they were never truly a couple and had many nights -and days- of meaningless sex, it was always because they craved each other's body. Doing anything with her now would be using her to forget...

_ Stop thinking about him, stop talking about him. Just forget the fucking idiot ever existed. _

"Armie?"

"I'm okay, Scar. Things didn't go as well as I expected with the journalist, but that's all."

She nods, clearly aware that there's more to the story, but also understanding that Armie doesn't want to talk about it.

"You know you can talk to me if you need it, right? I'm not Lee or Taylor, but sometimes talking to someone other than our close friends can help too."

Armie nods, a gentle smile on the corner of his lips. He feels her hand rest against his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin and closes his eyes for a brief second. By the time he opens them again, she's even closer and her hand is sliding down to his chest. Her touch is familiar and it still causes some of the hair on his body to stand up, but it simply isn't what he wants or needs right now.

**  
  
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The clouds get even darker as the day goes on, the streets of New York still packed with people, who share space with thousands of umbrellas, some more colorful than others. Braving the cold raindrops that insist on falling, Timothée rushes down the street, his backpack hanging from his shoulder, while he keeps a black folder pressed against his chest, doing his best to keep it from getting wet.

He groans, pushes some of his curls back and stops by the streetlight, his left foot tapping on the pavement as he waits. When he finally crosses the street, Timothée swiftly rushes down the street, turning left once he finally reaches his destination. He pulls the door open, a loud and exasperated sigh escaping him as he looks around the room.

It takes him a moment, but he eventually spots Chris on the other side of the room, waving at him. He nods, more to himself than anything else, then rushes over to Chris's side, nearly throwing himself down on the chair across from him. He drops his things on the empty chair by his left, rests his arms on the table and once again, lets out a loud sigh, his curls falling down his eyes.

"It's been raining for three days straight and I fucking hate it."

Chris scoffs, nodding his head slowly.

"I barely have any shoes left."

As Chris shoots him a look, Timothée shrugs.

"What? I mean it."

"You got no shoes left? Timothée Chalamet, the guy with the biggest shoe collection I've ever seen? C'mon dude."

"I don't have a shoe collection," he fires back, much to Chris's amusement. "I don't!"

"Sure, you don't."

"Fuck you," he says while rolling his eyes, causing Chris to laugh. "Anyway, I'm sorry I'm late, but work got the best of me."

"Work?," he asks with an eyebrow cocked. "Was it really work, or a particular article about this hot photographer, who you miss more than anything in the world?"

"He is part of my job, Chris."

"So you admit it was because of Armie that you left me waiting for almost half an hour?"

Timothée rolls his eyes and leans back on the seat, his fingers tapping on the wooden table, one of the many mannerisms that come up when he is nervous or slightly uncomfortable.

"C'mon, Tim, you know you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he shrugs. "I barely even said anything."

Chris sighs, pushes his mug of coffee to the side and leans forward on the table, making sure he's as close to Timothée as possible.

"Have you had any improvement on the article?"

Timothée stares at Chris for a minute in pure, and agonizing silence. He's been struggling to finish his article for nearly three weeks now, going slower than a goddamn snail. Every two sentences he writes, comes out as corny and stupid, which leaves him annoyed and tired.

"Tim?"

"No, I haven't had any improvement. No matter how hard I try, I barely managed to write anything ever since we came back from the road trip. At first I thought it was because everything was too fresh in my head, that once I got over the initial pain and anger, things would come around, but it didn't go as planned."

"Then maybe you should try plan b?"

"Which is?"

"Go over to his house and talk to him," he says calmly as Timothée shakes his head. "Tim, you need to talk to him, even if it's simply to find some closure. Things ended abruptly between the two of you, and I get that you don't want to make him suffer any more, but even if you guys don't end up together, talking to him might be the only way to solve this whole mess."

Timothée groans, buries his face in his hands and shakes his head. It's been almost three weeks since he last saw Armie, three weeks of heartache and confusion. While he wants to see and talk to Armie, he knows he's not the person he deserves. Armie is a good man, who deserves someone equally as good, not a fucking train wreck like him.

"I wish things were as easy as you make it sound like, Chris," he admits while looking back up. "But I'm still trying to get myself together, make some real changes in my life and be better. Armie should be able to move on with his life, find someone who can give him what he deserves."

"You really need to stop with this shit," Chris sighs, shaking his head. "Your trust issues and fear of abandonment does not make you a bad person, it's time for you to understand that once for all."

A moment of silence passes and Timothée nods, his eyes down to his hands.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

"Can we quit the therapy session, please?"

"I'm not..."

"Excuse me," the waiter interrupts. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have another cappuccino, please."

"I'll have a Mocha and a bagel with cream cheese, please."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Timothée nods, a little smile on the corner of his lips. He turns back to Chris, who's eyeing him up and down and simply shrugs.

"I'm doing the best I can, Chris."

"I know you are."

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

The rain slowly comes to a stop, the dark grey sky gradually turning into a light blue, the umbrellas disappearing as people step out of their houses to walk around the parks and squares. Inside the house, under two large windows, Armie's desk is set, filled with papers, books, photographs and his laptop, which remains open.

On the screen, a dozen photos are displayed, most of them from the road trip, but some from the latest work he did. With a large mug on his hand, Armie drags himself around the house and nearly plows himself down on the swirling chair, wheeling himself to his desk. He sets the mug to the side, his eyes glued to the screen. There's a bunch of photos that attract his attention, all of them beautiful and appealing, but there's one he can't stop himself from looking at.

With a sigh, he moves his finger along the touchpad, clicks on the photo and watches it fill up the screen. Timothée's curls are falling down his eyes, his nose is slightly crunched and the smile on his face is one of the biggest ones Armie has ever seen. He looks absolutely gorgeous, but then again, in Armie's eyes, he always does.

He leans forward on his seat, eyes wandering through every little corner of the photograph, analysing every freckle and hair, how the sun hits skin and makes it glow, as well as adds some natural highlights to his hair. He misses him, more than he ever expected to and he wishes there was something he could do to reverse everything, but he knows it's not really up to him. If Timothée isn't ready for a relationship, no matter Armie does, it will never work.

The sound of his phone vibrating on the desk distracts him, or brings him back to reality, he doesn't even know for sure. He reaches for it, smiles as he sees his mom's name on the screen and quickly hits accept, the sound of her voice sounding like music to his ears.

"Hey, mom."

"How you doing, kiddo?"

"I'm doing alright."

"Are you?," she asks after a beat, not even giving Armie time to process. "Because you still sound a bit sad to me and I absolutely hate that feeling."

"Mom, you don't have to worry about me, I'm doing a lot better."

"Have you and Timothée talked?"

"No and I don't think we will."

"What about the article? When is it coming out?"

Armie scoffs, his eyes wandering back to Timothée's photograph. He has absolutely no idea what is going on with his article, when is it coming out or if it will actually come out. All he knows is that Zoe sent him an email, asking him to be patient and reassuring him the article would actually see the light of day. Armie had his doubts though.

"Armand?"

"I don't know about the article, mom," he admits. "The magazine's editor told me everything is alright and the article will be out soon, but that's all the information I got so far."

"You think he might give up on writing it?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, nor would I blame him. Writing about someone you want to forget probably isn't the easiest thing to do, right?"

There's a brief moment of silence and Armie knows his mom is in deep thought.

"Who says he wants to forget you?"

"He dumped me as soon as he had the chance, mom, I doubt he's thrilled to write about me."

"Based on what you said, it's pretty clear Timothée is scared and confused. I wouldn't give up hope just yet, kiddo."

Armie smiles from the corner of his lips, his mother's optimism always surprising him.

"Enough about me and my frustrated romance," he says with a bit of a chuckle. "How are you and dad?"

"I'm doing alright and so is your father. I was tired for most of the day yesterday and couldn't do much other than shower and watch television, but I'm doing alright now."

"Are you sure? Please, don't lie to me, mom."

"I'm not lying to you, Armie."

"Okay," he bites his lip, a part of him not entirely sure he believes her. "I plan on stopping by the house in the next couple of days, okay? I've talked to the guys and they also want to visit, so we might pop up around Sunday."

"I'll be thrilled to have you guys here," she says and Armie can easily tell the excitement in her voice. "I gotta go now, kiddo, your father wants to go for a walk and I've been delaying it for far too long already."

"Go, it will do you good."

"I can't wait to see you and I love you."

Armie chuckles. "Love you both."

Just as his mom hangs up the phone, Armie hears the door open and Archie's bark, which causes him to push the chair back, earning a better view from the door. He rolls his eyes as he sees Taylor and Lee walk in, acting almost as if it was their own house. They stop to pet Archie, wave over at him and make their way straight to the kitchen, setting down a couple of paper bags.

"Can I help you two?," he asks in a mocking tone while getting up.

"We're good, thanks," Taylor shouts back while reaching for plates and glasses on the cabinets.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"What we always do here," Lee says matter of factly. "Hang out with you."

"We even brought some mexican food, because we know you love it and you're going through a phase you need all the comfort food you can get."

Armie nods, eyes wandering from Lee to Taylor for a minute. He chuckles, walks over to them and takes a peek at some of the bags, smiling at what he sees. He hops on one of the stools, reaches for a burrito and immediately takes a bite off of it.

"So, why on earth would you tell Scarlett what happened between me and Timothée?"

Lee and Taylor exchange a quick look, then Taylor sighs, leaning against the counter.

"Are you talking about me?"

"Of course I'm talking about you."

"I bumped into her at a bar and mentioned you were not on your best, I didn't say anything about Timothée."

Armie stares at him seriously, but as he notices Taylor growing uneasy, he nods.

"I know, she told me. She actually thought it was something to do with my mom."

"She stopped by?," Lee asks.

"She did."

"And?"

"And we talked for a while, then she left."

Taylor frowns, looks over at Lee and then back at Armie.

"Just that?"

"Despite her efforts, yes, just that."

"You're becoming an expert in turning her down, huh?"

"Trust me, for a moment I thought if I slept with her maybe it would help me. But then I realized I was only going to make things even more complicated, which is definitely not what I want for me right now."

"Knowing you, you'd blame yourself for using her, so I think you did the right thing."

Armie nods. "I hope so."

"Have you heard from the guy?"

"No, I haven't."

"Sorry, I won't ask again."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude of anything. But my mom just asked me the same thing and while she is still optimistic, I can't really see this situation turning back around."

"I say you should just try and move along with your life, bro. Find someone else to fulfil that hole, maybe you'll surprise yourself."

"Don't push it, Taylor."

"I'm not pushing it, I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't isolate himself in this house."

"Guys, I´m good. I won´t be isolating myself, so there's no need to worry," he says as his friends nod. "Anyway, my mom is waiting for us on Sunday. Are we still up for it?"

"I wouldn't miss Sunday lunch at your parents for anything," Lee says excitedly.

"Good, cuz she's really happy to know you two are coming with me."

"Of course she is, she loves us."

"She does," he admits. "I don't know why, but she does."

**  
  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

Timothée growls, throws his laptop to the side and leans back on the couch, his hand covering his face while on the laptop, the cursor blinks away on the screen of an unfinished document. He's desperate and angry, his blood boiling every time he remembers how long it has taken him to get anything done. The worst part of it all is, whenever he does get anything done, he hates every single word of it.

He inhales deeply, sits straight and stares into the emptiness of his apartment. The last three weeks have been like hell, his emotions, which he has always been good at keeping at bay, are now all over the place. He is trying his best to move on with his life, change some of his habits and overcome his fears, but things are always easier said than done. And while he is happy his relationship with his mother seems to have taken a -small- step forward, he knows there's still a lot to conquer.

A knock on the door catches his attention and he looks over to it, an exasperated sigh escaping him as he pushes himself up and drags himself across the room. As it has happened constantly the last three weeks, all Timothée wants is to be left alone.

"Hello," Zoe and Chris nearly shout in his face the moment he opens the door, wide smiles on their faces as they push past him and walk inside the apartment.

Timothée can't help but chuckle, locking the door behind him as he turns to his friends. He looks at them up and down, a frown forming on his face.

"Why are you guys all dressed up?"

"Because we came here to take you out of this house. I know things are not easy lately, but I think you need to go out and have some fun. A couple of drinks and some good music night help you get your mind off of..."

As Zoe trails off, Chris chuckles, his eyes wandering from her to Timothée. "It might help you get your mind off of a certain sexy giant."

"And not only that, it might help you relax enough to take your mind off of all the stress you've been through lately."

Timothée sighs, bites on his lip and takes a step closer to Zoe, a hand resting on her shoulder.

"I've known you for years, so I know you're probably freaking out right now about the article, but I promise you that I'm gonna get it done."

"Yes, I'm a little nervous about the article, but I can also understand your point. Trust me, if I could turn back time, I would never have forced you to take this job."

"Please don't," Timothée pleads, shaking his head. "Although things have not been easy and I am struggling a lot to deal with all these new feelings inside of me, meeting Armie was very important to me. He opened my eyes to a lot of things that were going on in my life, and if I am trying to get my shit together right now it is because of him. So, seriously, don't feel guilty."

"Okay."

"I'm happy to hear you say that, Tim," Chris says while ruffling his hair. "We meet many different people in our lives, and while not all of them stay long, everyone leaves something behind that teaches us something. I don't know if there's more to you and Armie, but I'm glad you're not taking the whole thing as a mistake anymore."

"I want to get my shit together," Timothée says while trying his best to smile. "And to do so, I need to accept the fact those three weeks I spent with him were probably the best ones of my life."

"I think you still have a shot," Zoe winks and nudges him. "But this is not why we're here today, we're here to take you out and party a little bit. So why don't you rush over to your bedroom, put on some nice clothes and join us at least for a couple of hours?"

Timothée bites his lip, not really sure he's in the mood to party, but also aware he can't spend all of his days inside his apartment. His eyes wander from Zoe to Chris, who has a hopefully look upon face, then sighs while nodding his head.

"Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?"

"Take your time," Zoe says while pushing him towards the bedroom. She smiles as she watches him rush around the room, then turns to face Chris, a slightly worried look taking over her face. "You really think this is a good idea?"

"He needs to go out, Zoe, have some fun and see new faces."

"I agree that he can't be stuck inside this apartment every single day, but I also fear we might have a replay of that first night back and.."

"We won't," he assures her. "He's not as confused and angry as he was back then, and he knows acting that way would cause him more pain. He'll be alright, trust me."

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

"What you think about this one?"

Armie frowns, his feet up on the couch as he lies on the carpet of his living room. He turns to the side, nearly blinded by the light that comes from Taylor's phone, which is now shoved on his face. He stares at the screen, analyzing it for a couple of minutes before turning to look Taylor in the eye.

"You do know is a bit creepy that you're going through Grindr trying to find me a guy to fuck, right?"

"Really?," he asks with a cocked eyebrow as Armie slowly nods. "Well, I was just trying to help."

"Thank you for the help, bro, but it's still a bit creepy."

"My question is," Lee says while closing the fridge, a cheeky grin on his face. "Why on earth do you have Grindr on your phone?"

"I just downloaded."

"Of course you did," he mocks as Taylor shoots him a look. "C'mon, Taylor, if you have something to tell us, you can do it. We'll be understanding and supportive."

Armie laughs as he leans on his elbows, his eyes wandering from Lee to Taylor, who rolls his eyes.

"Fuck off, Lee. At least I am trying to do something to help the guy."

"By finding him someone to fuck? That's not what he needs right now."

"Sometimes a good fuck can lighten up someone's mood."

Armie shakes his head, sitting up on the floor and reaching for a bottle of beer on the coffee table. "I absolutely love how you two can have a whole conversation about me as if I'm not sitting right here, listening to everything."

They stare at each other, then turn back to Armie. "Then what approach you think is best?," Lee asks as Armie chuckles.

"Maybe we could find a middle ground about it? I don't feel like going on one night stands, but I also feel like it's time to go out and have some fun."

"That sounds good to me," Taylor admits while shrugging. "There's a cool band playing tonight in a bar near my place, maybe we could go there. The food and the drinks are good, but it's a small place, so you won't feel overwhelmed by people."

Armie bites his lip, his finger sliding up and down the beer bottle as he debates the idea. Sure, he mentioned going out, but he wasn't really planning on doing it tonight. Then again, staying home all alone is not gonna help him in any way.

"Okay, that sounds good to me, but you're paying."

"Oh, I really like this."

Taylor shoots Lee a look, then turns back to Armie, nodding his head. "Sure, I'll pay."

**  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
**

The band is on their break, but there's still music playing and the chatter seems to get louder and more intense as the minutes go by. Sitting on one of the few chairs spread across the bar, Timothée stares into space, his finger circling the glass that once was filled with a sweet and cold Mojito.

He hears laughter behind him and looks over his shoulder, smiling slightly as he sees Zoe and Chris walk towards him. They both take a seat, each one of them holding a drink, which they place down on the table. Chris slides his towards Timothée, who simply shakes his head and slides back to him.

"I've had enough for the night, I don't want to risk getting a hangover."

"Such a responsible little boy," Chris mocks as Timothée flips him the finger. "What? I'm proud of you."

"Fuck you, Chris."

"Oh shut up you two, the band is about to start again and I need to focus all my attention on the cutie blond guy on the drums."

"You and your love for musicians," Timothée says as Zoe shrugs.

"What can I do? They are sexy and talented, it's not easy to ignore."

Timothée laughs and for the first time in a few days, he actually feels relaxed and at ease with himself. Sure, he knows it will take a lot more than one night out to solve things, but he's glad he decided to do this. Being with his friends sure helps him feel less alone and stupid.

"Hello? Earth to Timothée!"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"This is not what we're here for," Chris says before taking a sip of his Margarita. "We're here to relax and forget about the troubles of our lives."

"Tell me, what are the troubles of your life?"

"Work is annoying, the guy I'm going out with is very clingy and I am still trying to get this stupid friend of mine to actually talk to the guy he's in love with, but he won't listen to me."

Timothée shoots him a look, but can't help but chuckle. "What's up with the new guy?"

"He's just a bit too much sometimes, you know? He calls me about three or four times a day, texts me every two hours and gets slightly annoyed if I don't answer immediately. I'm pretty sure he thinks he's the most important person in my life."

"And he's completely wrong, because that person is yourself."

"Of course," he winks at Timothée, but almost immediately focuses his attention on his phone as it vibrates on the table. He reaches for it, rolls his eyes and shows it to Timothée, a look that says I told you so in his face. "I'll be back in a second."

"Take your time, but don't be too harsh on the poor guy," he shouts as Chris walks away. He chuckles to himself, turns to the side and realizes Zoe is far gone, his eyes immediately scanning the room in search for her.

He finds her close to the stage, dancing with a huge smile on her face. Sadly for Timothée, that's not the only thing he notices. Just seconds after finding Zoe, he catches a glimpse of Armie standing at the bar, hands inside his pocket as he chats with some random girl, who has her hand resting on his shoulder and a huge smile plastered on her face.

He feels his whole body react to the sight, his heartbeat increase and his face flush. It's been three weeks since he last saw him and the Polaroid he kept in his bedroom was the closest to having him around, even if he still took time every single day to stalk his Instagram page. Confused about what to do, Timothée grips tightly onto the glass, while his eyes remain on Armie, who, completely unaware of his presence, laughs at something the girl said.

The whole situation feels a bit too much and Timothée gets up quickly, grabs his phone and makes his way out of the bar, but not without bumping into someone first. He takes a step back, stares at the guy in the eye and swiftly recognizes him from all the photos on Armie's Instagram and the one FaceTime conversation they had. It's Lee, who stares back at him, clearly unsure of what to do in the situation, much like Timothée himself.

Before either of them can say anything, Timothée turns on his heels and walks out of the bar, taking a couple of deep breaths. He leans against the wall, closes his eyes for a brief second and tries to recover himself, just as he hears his name being called.

"What the fuck just happened? Why did you run away like that?"

"Armie is here," he says almost in a whisper as Chris looks back at the bar. "I was just sitting there when suddenly I saw him in the distance, laughing at what some chick was saying and being all..."

"Being all?"

"Being his fucking charming self," he blurts out, his face red with a mix of anger and fear.

"Tim, I know it's not easy, but you have no right to be jealous of the guy," Chris takes a step closer, an apologetic look on his face. "You ended things with him, he has all the right to go out with other people and move on with his life."

"I know that, but it's just..."

"I know," Chris reassures him. "I'll go tell Zoe we're leaving, okay?"

Timothée simply nods and watches as Chris walks back inside the bar. If he had stayed home, none of this would have happened.

****  
  



	28. Always On My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for more, so here is more

"Are you sure you don´t want me to stay?"

Timothée nods, a small but reassuring smile on the corner of his lips as he stares at Chris, who leans against the threshold, big blue eyes locked on him. He´s tried to keep him calm and talk to him on their way home from the bar, and Timothée has to admit, if it wasn´t for Chris friendship he probably wouldn´t manage to get through this.

Even if sometimes he was a bit harsh with his unfiltered way of saying things, Chris was always there for him, even when he didn´t deserve it.

"Yes, I´m sure. I´m just gonna head to bed and get some sleep, so you don´t have to worry about me."

"Hard not to when I can clearly see in your eyes how much this affected you."

Timothée sighs while shrugging his shoulders. "Like you said, I did this to myself and I have no right to be jealous or mad at Armie for moving on with his life. It does hurt a lot more than I expected to see it right in front of me, specially so soon."

"I know it´s never easy to see someone we care about moving on, specially in your case. You´ve always been disattached from the people you´ve gone out with, me included," Timothée scoffs, shaking his head. "But it´ll feel better eventually and, just remember, there´s always plan b."

"To me, plan b seems even harder than admitting my feelings in the first place."

"But eventually you did it, didn´t you? You told him how he made you feel, you allowed him in, you can do it again if you try."

"You really have faith in me?"

"The way I see it, you´re the only one who doesn´t have faith in yourself," he winks, pats Timothée´s shoulder and then turns on his heels, heading to the elevator.

Timothée watches in silence as he leans against the elevator wall, waving just as the door starts to close. He sighs, takes a step back and locks the front door, heading over to the kitchen straight afterwards. He reaches for a bottle of water in the fridge, takes a few sips of it and then heads to the bedroom, kicking his boots to the side before climbing in bed.

His phone starts ringing seconds later and a frown appears in his face as he sees who it is. Confused, he quickly answers it, hearing his mother´s voice fill his ears.

"Mom, why are you still awake?"

"Insomnia has been hard the last couple of days. I got up a few minutes ago, made some tea, tried to read a book, but couldn´t concentrate. I hope I didn´t wake you up?"

"Don´t worry, I actually just got home."

There´s a few seconds of silence and Timothée simply waits, aware his mother is probably thinking of the million different things she could say right now. Ever since he opened up about how her behavior made him feel, how overwhelming and suffocating she could be, Lara has been trying her best not to say anything too drastic. Or even give him much advice.

Aware of how difficult it´s been to work on his own issues, Timothée can only imagine how hard it´s been for her to let go of habits she cultivated for twenty four years.

"Mom?"

"I´m... I´m glad you´re having fun, sweetie."

"I´m trying."

"Have you...," she sighs. "Have you seen that boy again?"

"No, I haven´t," he lies. "And I think it's best that way, at least for now. I need to make up my mind, work on some things, if I see him now I´m not sure things will go as I expect them to."

"I wish I could do something to ease your pain. I wish I was there to keep you from getting hurt and..."

Lara trails off and Timothée bites his lip.

"I´m sorry, I know you don´t wanna hear those things."

"I love that you care this much about me, but for the sake of us both, I need you to find a middle ground. You can´t keep me from getting hurt, but you can help me feel better."

"Well, then I´m here for you."

"I know you are."

"Okay, maybe you should go to sleep."

"I´m not sleepy. Why don´t you tell me a bit about your day?"

"It was boring like every other one since you left this apartment, but if you really want to know."

"I do."

"Okay then, let me see..."

**  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
  
**

"You think I should tell him?"

Taylor looks up from his phone, an eyebrow cocked as he stares back at Lee, who seems worried and uneasy.

"Tell him what?"

"That Timothée was at the bar."

"What different is that gonna make, Lee?"

"Maybe it´s not gonna make any difference in their situation, but maybe he would like to know."

"And do what? It´s not like he asked about him, or did he?"

"No, he could barely look me in the eye."

"Then I really don´t see the point in bothering him with this subject. He actually had fun tonight, he talked to people, smiled and laughed. You know how they say ignorance is a bliss?"

"I don´t know," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "I don´t like lying to him."

"Lee, if you wanna tell him then do it, but I don´t see it as a big deal. They live in the same city, for God´s sake, their jobs are intertwined at the moment, so I doubt he´s not aware that they could bump into each other at any moment."

"Exactly why I should tell him, don´t you think?"

"Tell me what?," Armie´s voice echoes from the mezzanine, his blue eyes locked on his friends. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for either of them to say something and watches as Lee turns to Taylor, who simply shrugs his shoulders. "Is anyone gonna tell me what´s going on or am I gonna have to guess?"

Lee sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he tries to find the right words to say. He looks back at Armie, watching as he slowly gets down the stairs, and bites his lip.

"Lee bumped into Timothée at the bar," Taylor eventually blurts out, attracting the eyes of Lee and Armie. "What? You wanted to tell him and now you were about to chicken out, so I did the job for you. You´re welcome."

"You´re too much sometimes," he mumbles as Taylor shrugs.

"When did you see him?"

"When I went to call you, tell you our Uber had arrived."

Armie nods slowly. "Did you talk?"

"No. I´m pretty sure he recognized me, but he left really quickly, I didn´t have time to say or do anything."

"What would you do anyway?," Lee doesn´t answer, simply shrugs and Armie sighs.

"Look, he wasn´t sure if he should tell you this. I think in some ways, we´re a bit scared of how the mention of his name might affect you, which is why we´ve been avoiding the subject as much as we can."

"Guys, it´s okay. A part of me is aware that at some point we´ll be face to face again, and it might not be pleasant, but it´s the way life goes. But you guys don´t have to keep anything away from me, I can deal with it all, I swear."

"Okay, I´ll remember that."

"Besides, I wasn´t doing anything wrong. I´m just trying to move on with my life after he made a decision for the both of us."

Taylor nods, arms crossed and a serious look on his face.

"How was he?"

"He was...," Lee sighs, biting his lip. "I mean, it was really quick so I can´t tell you much, but he seemed a bit nervous."

"We debated the fact he might have seen you with that girl you were talking to."

Armie nods, words failing him at the moment. The last thing he wants is to hurt Timothée, even if he knows that he didn´t do absolutely anything wrong and that he will have to move on with someone else eventually. But he can imagine how painful it would be to see him with someone else so soon.

"Well, there´s nothing I can do, right? I can´t keep policing myself because we might bump into each other somewhere, I need to live my life the way I always did."

"You´re absolutely right, bro."

Armie remains in silence for a moment, then sighs, pointing over to the mezzanine. "The projector is set, we can go watch the movie."

"You sure you still want to do this?"

"Yes, I am."

**  
  
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Timothée places his plate on the sink, washing up quickly before drying his hands. He takes a quick look around the kitchen, grabs a tall glass on the cabinet and fills it with Iced Tea, before heading back to the living room and taking a seat on the couch. He takes a sip of his drink, then places the glass down on the coffee table and grabs his laptop, staring at the screen for a good minute before opening the dreadful file with the profile about Armie.

_ You can do this, you just need to focus and think back about everything you've seen him do and say. You can do this. _

"I wish it was that ease," he mumbles to himself before he starts typing, fingers quickly moving along the keyboard, trying to keep up with the million thoughts that flood his head.

The first five minutes go out well, line after line coming out, a whole paragraph formed within minutes, which is a record for him lately, but once he stops and reads it through, it's all the same. Just like before the trip, he stares at the screen and hates absolutely everything he has done. It's not worth it, it's not good enough for the magazine, for him and specially for someone like Armie.

He groans, leans his head back and tries to calm himself down, taking a couple of deep breaths. He closes his eyes, smiles to himself as he allows memories from the trip to fill his head and sits back straight, erasing everything he did and rewriting it again. Once he's finished, Timothée has to admit he doesn't completely hate it, but it's still not exactly what he wanted.

_ At least you're doing something and it's more than you have done the whole week _ .

He bites his lip, sets his laptop down and reaches for the glass, taking a few sips of his tea before grabbing his phone. He opens his Facebook, scrolls through some posts, then switches to Twitter, which is just as boring. When he finally opens Instagram, the first thing he lands eyes on it is Armie's new post, a photo of him with his friends and his parents, all of them sporting large smiles on their faces. He can't help but smile too, glad to see him this way.

He raises his gaze when he hears a knock and the door opening, revealing Chris. He gestures for him to come in and then moves his eyes down to the phone again, clicking on Armie's profile and scrolling through some of his newest photos.

"How you doing?," Chris asks while filling a glass with water. "I texted you earlier today asking if you wanted to go on a jog with me, but you didn't text back."

"You should know by now I'm not the jogging type, Chris."

"People change," he says, a frown on his face as he realizes Timothée hasn't even looked up. He sets the glass down, walks over to him and leans against the couch behind him, looking over his shoulder. "What you looking at?"

"Nothing, I was just...," Chris snaps the phone off of his hand before he can even finish. "Chris, c'mon."

Chris stares at the phone for a second before giving it back to Timothée, who locks it and stuffs it in his pocket. With a sigh, Chris walks around the couch and takes a seat right beside Timothée, a serious look on his face.

"Can I ask you something and can you please be honest with me?"

Timothée nods slowly, eyes locked on Chris.

"Do you want to forget him?," he asks as Timothée arches an eyebrow. "Because if you do, I think stalking his Instagram is not gonna do you any good."

A moment of silence passes, Timothée sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. His emotions are all over the place once again and he nearly feels nauseous as he starts talking, still unused to being so open and vulnerable.

"I'm in love with him, Chris. In love in ways I never expected to be and this whole experience leaves me scared, confused and anxious. I go to sleep thinking about him, I wake up thinking about him, he's always in my mind."

He exhales, buries his face in his hand and tries to recover himself.

"You asked me if I want to forget him?," he looks over to Chris, who listens in silence. "I can't answer you that question, because not even I know the answer. All I know right now is that I'm not good enough for him."

"That's a lie," Chris finally says. "You're a good person, Tim, you've made mistakes and chose a complicated path for your life, but you're a good person. And I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but if you could just talk to him, maybe things would get better."

Timothée shakes his head, rubbing his hands together as a couple of tears form in his eyes.

"I can't do it, Chris. I simply can't. I'm scared this time he will be the one to reject me."

Chris sighs and sits up straight, swallowing hard.

"You might hate me for this, but at least now you have an idea of what all the people you rejected, Armie included, felt like."

Timothée stares at him for a second, a shiver running down his spine.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he reassures him. "You're brutal, but I appreciate your honesty."

Chris smiles slightly and moves closer, pulling Timothée in for a sideways hug. "I'll be here for whatever you need, okay? But I think what you need right now is to truly think about what you want, because the longer you wait, the harder it will be."

Timothée nods, leaning his head against Chris's shoulder as he stares into his laptop, watching as the cursor blinks away, almost as if it was mocking him.

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Armie doesn´t seem to mind the scorching Sun as he runs down the pavement, sweat dripping down his back and forming a stain on his grey shirt. His cheeks are flushed, his joints burn with every step he takes, but he doesn´t stop even for a minute, making sure his breathing is steady.

He turns a corner and immediately catches a glimpse of Sam´s house, a little smile appearing on the corner of his lips as he remembers their night out the last time he was in town. He focuses his attention back on the road, his parent's house only a few blocks away. With a quick look over his shoulder, he chuckles, watching as Lee and Taylor trail far behind, a look of pure agony in their faces.

"Come on," he shouts while turning back to face them, his speed a lot less now that he´s backwards, but still quite impressive. "You guys are way too slow. If you keep it like this, by the time we make it back home is gonna be time for tea."

"Oh, fuck you," Taylor shouts back at him, rolling his eyes.

Armie laughs, sticks his tongue out and turns back around. He slows down his pace, allowing his friends to finally catch up with him as they get closer to the house, the sight of Victoria sitting on the porch the very first thing Armie sees.

He comes to a stop in front of the house, hands on his hips as he tries to catch his breath. Lee and Taylor join him soon afterwards, Lee nearly bumping into him as he stumbles on his own feet. He curses under his breath, a hand resting on Armie´s shoulder and a look of anger in his eyes.

"Remind me to never, ever, go on a jog with you again. You will end up killing me eventually and I´m too young for that, alright?"

"I didn´t force anyone to join me," he fires back as Taylor shoots him a look. "What? I didn´t."

"I fucking hate you," he mumbles while shaking his head. "I´m sorry, Aunt Vic, but I´m afraid I´ll have to cut ties with your son, he´s a masochist."

Victoria chuckles and nods her head, pushing herself up from the couch. She leans against the railing, her eyes wandering from Taylor to Armie.

"Armie has always used jogging as a way to escape the things eating away his brain," she says while Armie shakes his head. "Whenever he goes for a walk, I know he's worried about something. It's been like this ever since he was a teenager."

"Well, I´m sad to disappoint you all," he says while walking up the steps to the house. "But today´s run was just that, a run."

"If you say so," Victoria reaches for his hand and pulls him closer, placing a tender kiss on his cheek despite all the sweat. "Lunch is ready, so if you guys would like to join us in the kitchen."

"We should probably shower first, mom."

"Nonsense," she says while gesturing for Lee and Taylor to come in. "Food is getting cold already and there's nothing worse than a good homemade meal heated up on the microwave. You guys eat with us, then you can go take a shower."

"Are you sure, Aunt Vic?"

"I´m sure Paul and I can handle the smell."

Armie chuckles and follows his mom inside, an arm wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his shoulder. He looks down at her, loving eyes as he analyses her for a good minute. She seems thinner than the last time they saw each other already, and he can see the glow in her eyes is just not the same as it used to be.

"Oh, you guys are finally back," Paul says excitedly while placing a bowl with rice on the center of the table. "I was afraid we´d have to eat all of this by ourselves."

“Don´t sweat it, Uncle Paul, we´re here to help," Taylor says excitedly, his eyes wandering around the table as he takes a seat. "I keep forgetting how great you two are, so every time I come here I get surprised at how great everything looks."

"Let´s hope it tastes just as good," Paul chimes in as Lee smirks.

"It always does, so I doubt it will be any different this time."

"You do know if you guys keep cooking like this, they might never leave, right?"

"We actually would like to have them here more often."

"Mom, you have no idea what you´re getting yourself into by saying this."

"We would come here more often if only your son would actually tell us in advance when he is coming, Aunt Vic."

"Armie, you gotta invite them more often."

"I always do."

"That´s kind of a lie," Taylor says with a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Eat your potatoes, will ya?"

Taylor flips him the finger, but immediately regrets it, throwing an apologetic look in Paul and Victoria´s direction.

"It´s okay, Taylor, don´t worry about us."

"Seriously, you got the best parents ever."

Armie smiles, his eyes wandering from his father to his mother. "I know I do."

**  
  
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There's a single knock on the door, but it's all it takes to get Armie's attention. As he closes his book, tossing it to the side, he watches as Lee's heap pops up through the door. He remains in silence, waiting for his friend to say something, but silence is all he gets.

"Is everything okay, Lee?"

"I could ask you the exact same thing," he answers while leaning against the closed door, arms crossed and eyes locked on Armie. "We were talking and having fun, suddenly I turned around and you're not there anymore."

"I just needed some time on my own," Armie assures him. "And most importantly, I didn't want to bring the mood down."

Lee frowns, growing worried at the tone of Armie's voice.

"Is this about Timothée?"

"No, this is about me. Me and all this shit I got eating away my brain."

Lee bites on his lip, pushes himself off of the door and walks over to bed, taking a seat opposite from Armie.

"Armie, I'm your best friend, you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Armie nods, but remains quiet for a whole minute, debating whether or not to actually let out all the angst he has inside of him.

"I've been trying my best to clear my mind, but I can't seem to do it. I stare at my mother and all I can see is how tired she looks, how fragile she is and yet she keeps trying to hide it from me and everyone around her, because she doesn't want to admit the sickness is winning over her. And to see that, to see my mother, who has always been so strong losing this battle, it kills me a little bit more every single day."

He stops, swallows dryly and inhales deeply. His hands turn into fists, his lips quiver and he feels tears start to form in his eyes.

"And the only moment I finally manage to push back the thoughts about her and the sadness that my father must be going through, all I can see is him, all I can hear is his laughter and I have no fucking clue of what to with myself anymore."

Lee wishes he could speak, find some word to minimize Armie's pain, but not only he doesn't know what to say, he knows Armie needs to let it all out.

"I'm trying, Lee, I'm trying my fucking best, but I can't seem to get back to the old me anymore. The past month has been like hell and I'm tired of feeling this way."

The room goes quiet for a few minutes, both of them sitting still, million thoughts running through their heads. It takes him nearly all the courage he has inside of him, but Lee moves closer, his hand reaching out for Armie's knee.

"I wish I could tell you your mother is gonna beat this thing and be okay, but since I can't, I wish from the bottom of my heart that you and Timothée will have the chance to talk once again. Maybe your relationship is really over, but I have a feeling that if you guys could sit down for a honest talk, you'd feel a lot better."

Armie doesn't really know what to say at the moment, Lee's words repeating over and over again in his head.

"I also wish I knew what to do to help you make it out of this."

Armie scoffs, shaking his head. "If I don't know what to do, you can't expect you to, Lee."

"I know, but it's agonizing to see your friend feeling bad and not be able to do something about it."

"Trust me, having you and Taylor around has been a lot helpful."

"Then why doesn't it feel enough?"

"When we care about people, no help seems enough, we always want to do more."

Lee nods, leaning forward so he can rest a hand on Armie's shoulder. "Just know I'm here for whatever you need, okay?"

"I know that, don't worry."

* * *

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Music blasts through his headphones, the cool breeze that comes from the river hitting his face and making the whole task a lot more bearable. His pace increases each two minutes, his body starting to react to the work out and sweat dripping down his forehead and back.

He keeps himself focused, but knows he won´t last much long. Running has never really been something he liked and the only reason why he decided to do this now was because he needed out of his apartment, get some fresh air and see new faces.

He´s been so caught up on his problems, so focused on writing the goddamn article, that he forgot about the simple things of life, the things that gave him joy and made him feel alive. Now he desperately wants to catch up on all the time he lost, find something that makes him smile again and that brings him much needed joy.

He slows down into a stop, taking long and deep breaths as he leans against the railing. It´s been a while since he´s been on this side of Brooklyn, so he takes time to observe everything around him, smiling at the kids that pass by on their bikes, the couples that stroll along the pavement and the motion of the river, always so smooth and calm.

Timothée walks over to an empty bench and takes a seat, running his fingers through his curls. He turns off the music, stretches out his arm and then closes his eyes for a brief moment, taking in deep breaths and simply allowing himself to get in contact with his surroundings.

He sits there for a few minutes, in complete silence, but attentive to everything around him. When he finally gets up, one quick look around the street and he spots the one place he didn´t expect to. The house stands just a few feet away from him, the same dark bricks and large windows, the same steps he took while still debating whether or not he had made a mistake.

As if his feet had a life of their own, Timothée crosses the street and stands in front of the house, staring at it. He can almost see himself get out of the taxi and walk up those steps. He can still remember how his cheeks flushed when Armie answered the door shirtless, or the joy he felt when Archie rushed over to him.

Stepping into that house was the start of everything and it changed his life in ways he never predicted. If only he could find a way to translate everything he felt into words.

_ Once you stop trying to hold yourself back, you´ll do it, but you need to be open and honest. Don´t write it for Zoe or anyone else, write it for you. Write it for Armie. _

Timothée frowns, the little voice inside his head repeating its words over and over again. He wishes it was that easier, he wishes he could sit down and simply type it away, but he can´t manage to do it. He just can´t.

_ You can if you just try a little harder. _

Suddenly all the memories of Armie flood his head, the way he would smile down at him and wrinkles would appear in the corner of his eyes. The sound of his laugh or the joy he felt whenever he grabbed his camera. He loved his job and that was obvious, but most importantly, he loved people and their stories.

_ It´s time someone tells his, don´t you think? _

The frown in his face suddenly turns to a small smile and Timothée can´t help but feel a tingling go through his entire body. He turns on his heels, rushes down the street and does his best to make it back to his apartment as fast as possible. A glimpse of hope has washed over him and he can´t let it go to waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can honestly say we´re almost there ;)


	29. Knocking On Heaven´s Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can be painful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for more and here it is, but be aware, this chapter is a major rollercoaster of emotions.

Zoe groans louder with every ring of the doorbell while her feet drag her around the house and over to the front door. Her sleepy eyes fall upon the clock by the coffee table and she frowns, realizing it's not even nine in the morning. She shakes her head, ties her afro up in a high bun and opens the door, the sunlight blinding her briefly, but the sight of a rather disheveled Timothée a lot more surprising.

"Tim, it's Saturday, what the fuck are you doing here so early?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I needed to give you something and I couldn't wait any longer."

Zoe cocks an eyebrow, but nods her head and opens the door wider, allowing Timothée inside.

"And what is it you have to give me that couldn't wait just a couple more hours?"

"I finished," he blurts out, confusing Zoe even more. "The article, I finally managed to finish."

"What?"

"I finished," he repeats, handing her a little file.

"How did you finish this so fast? I thought you barely had anything done?"

Timothée shrugs, biting on his lip as he keeps his eyes on his friend. He wishes he could say he is finally cool and calm, but he isn't, is quite the opposite actually.

"Just read it, okay?"

Zoe nods, her eyes moving down to the pages in her hand. She smiles at first, but as she keeps on reading, a frown forms on her face and she can't help but steal quick glances at Timothée, who stands a couple feet away from her, biting on his nails while on his eyes, there's a mix of apprehension and excitement.

"Is it that bad?," he finally asks when Zoe remains in silence.

"What? No, it might probably be one of your best pieces, but it's also quite personal. Are you sure you want to publish this, Tim?"

"Yes, I am," he nods while taking a step closer to Zoe. "I agree with you, it's a very raw and personal article, but even though I'm fucking terrified of it being published, I know this is what he deserves."

"I can give you more time if you want."

"No. Look, I was trying to write something very structured and unbiased, but then I realized that by doing that, I was depriving the reader of a real good look at who Armie really is. This article, the article you nearly forced me to take, is actually the one thing allowing me to openly say what I think of Armie and never had the guts to tell him in the face."

Zoe smiles, her hand resting on Timothée's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Tim."

"I'm proud of myself too, although still scared shitless."

She chuckles, bringing him closer in a sideway hug. "I think that fear is quite normal, especially for someone who spent most of his life hiding his feelings."

"I hate to admit, but Chris was right all along. Suppressing my feelings was causing more pain in me than anyone else, and that's no way of living."

"I promise you I won't tell him you just admitted he was right," Timothée chuckles and Zoe shrugs, winking at him. "So, you wanna join me for breakfast?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

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Armie slowly walks down the stairs, his blue eyes wandering around the empty living room. He stops at the bottom, looks out the window, but sees the porch is just as empty. Biting his lip, he crosses the living room and makes it down the hallway, heading to the back door. 

He leans against the threshold of the open door, his eyes wandering to his mother, who sits quietly on the large wooden bench, a pillow on her back as she stares into her garden. She´s pale, her hair doesn´t shine as much as it used to and he can tell how tired she is. Her illness is getting more intense lately, it´s clear to see, and he desperately wishes there was something he could do to help her.

With a deep breath, Armie steps out to the terrace and gently walks over to her, taking a seat beside her. She turns to look at him, a small smile appearing on the corner of her lips, despite the lack of glow in her blue eyes.

"Why didn't you go out with your dad and the boys?"

"I wasn't really in the mood," he explains as she cocks an eyebrow. "I´m alright, mom, I just wasn't really into walking around town. Besides, I know all of dad´s stories about the neighborhood, so I'm sure he will be happy to have a new and more enthusiastic audience today."

"Well, that´s true."

Victoria leans forward, coughing for a few seconds, before she takes a deep breath and looks back at Armie, who stares at her worried.

"Don´t look at me like this, kiddo."

"How exactly do you want me to look at you right now, mom? I can see how fragile you are, I can see that you´re getting tired of fighting and it kills me."

"Stop it, okay?," she shakes her head, a hand resting on Armie´s cheek. "I need you to be strong, sweetie. I need you to keep on living your life like you always did. Once I´m gone, and we all know this is gonna happen eventually, I need to know you´re moving on with your life and doing what makes you happy."

"I hate when you say those things."

"What? That I´m gonna die? We should be past that already, Armie."

"It will never be easy to accept it, okay? I know death is part of living, a very important part of it, but knowing this doesn't make it easier. Specially not when it happens this way, with pain and suffering."

"I don't see this as pain and suffering," she admits as Armie frowns. "Sure I didn't want to go through this, I didn't want us to go through this, but I´ve had so many great moments in my life, a lot of them after I found out about my illness. I lived a good life, Armie, one I don´t regret and for me, that´s the most important thing of it all."

"I can´t see things the way you do, mom."

"We hardly ever can understand others fully. I love your father, yet there´s aspects of his personality that I will die without understanding. The same goes to you, my sweetheart, I don´t always get your choices, but I allow you to do them because those are the things that will define who you truly are. And I will love you no matter what, so why bother trying to figure out every little thing?"

Armie chuckles and moves closer to Victoria, leaning his head against her shoulder. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, kiddo."

Silence takes them over for a while, their fingers intertwined as they stare at the garden ahead of them, the sound of birds chirping nearby the soundtrack to their little moment. Suddenly Armie´s phone starts vibrating on his back pocket, the sound catching his and Victoria´s attention.

He reaches for it, unlocks it and quickly clicks on the email notification that appears on the screen. He reads it all carefully, a frown forming on his face.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything´s okay."

"Are you sure?," she asks as Armie nods, looking up at her. "You seem a bit...confused, I guess."

"I just got an email from Zoe, Cultural Affair´s editor."

"And what does it say?"

"She told me that my profile will come out on the Wednesday issue of the magazine."

"Shouldn´t you be happy about this? You were unsure if the article would even see the light of day, now you have an actual date."

"I don't even know what to think about this article anymore, mom. It seemed like a great idea, but after everything that happened between..."

Armie sighs, shaking his head as he keeps his eyes locked on the phone, rereading the email over and over again.

"Sweetie," Victoria places a hand on his knee, squeezing it softly. "I have a feeling everything's gonna be alright and this article will help you, in more ways than others. I know I will buy quite a few copies and hand it out around the neighborhood. I want everyone to see my beautiful son on the cover of a magazine."

"I´m not sure I´m gonna be on the cover, mom."

"I don´t care if you´re on the cover or not, you´re gonna be featured on the magazine and with a beautiful article."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I have yet to meet someone who's spent more than a day with you and has anything other than beautiful words to share, with Timothée it won´t be any different."

"You have a lot of faith in someone you never met."

Victoria shrugs, wrapping an arm around Armie´s shoulders. "Call me optimistic."

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"No no, you can just trust me," Armie says while shutting the car door, his phone pressed against his ear and his camera bag hanging from his shoulder. He chuckles softly, nods his head, even though he knows no one is watching him, and slowly makes his way inside his house, opening the curtains to let some sunlight in. "Everything will be alright. I´ll see you tomorrow."

He hangs up the phone and smiles wide as he sees Archie rush over to him, nestling himself in between his feet. He kneels down, pets him softly and then gets back up, throwing his phone and bag over to the sideboard by the door. He sees a couple of mails and packages on the floor and picks up, sighing as he sees all the unnecessary bullshit he is sent.

He stops when a different kind of package appears, something thick, perfectly wrapped in brown paper. He inspects the package with an eyebrow cocked, but bites his lip once he sees the name on the top left corner. Cultural Affair Magazine, which means it can only be one thing. He swiftly rips the package open, his eyes scanning the front cover for a good few seconds.

There´s one of his photos on the cover, one Zoe was kind enough to ask him to send it over, there´s also a few headlines, but the whole thing is mostly minimalistic, like basically every single cover of Cultural Affair he has ever seen. With a sigh, he walks over to the couch and takes a seat, eyes locked on the magazine as his hand reaches for it. He stops himself, unsure if he truly wants to read the article or not.

Maybe his mother is right, Timothée might have written a beautiful article about him; or maybe he has used it to unleash all the insecurities he had over their relationship and made him look like an asshole. Either way, Armie isn´t sure if he can put himself through this right now.

He throws the magazine to the coffee table and gets up, his eyes lingering on it for a moment more before he walks over to the bathroom. He takes off his clothes, throws them on the laundry bin, then heads to the shower, the cool water relaxing his body after hours of work. Despite being tired, he has to admit work was quite pleasant, everyone seemed truly involved and willing to do their best, which usually made his job a lot easier.

When he finally makes it out of the bathroom, the Sun is already setting and his house looks a lot darker than usual. He spots Archie sleeping by his bed while making it to his closet, which he stops in front of for quite a few minutes, trying to figure out what to wear. He pulls on a pair of dark jeans, a black shirt and grabs his bomber jacket, throwing it to the bed before reaching for his boots on the lower shelf.

He puts them on, runs his fingers through his short hair and his beard, takes a good look at himself in the mirror and turns on his heels as he hears the doorbell ringing. He takes one deep breath, grabs his jacket and heads over to the door, his hands trembling slightly. It´s been over two months since he went on a date with anyone, and he knows doing it when he still has strong feelings towards Timothée might not be a good idea, but he also knows he can stop his life anymore.

He puts on a large smile on his face as he opens the door, across from him a tall, dark haired man with deep hazel eyes.

"I hope I´m not late."

"No, you´re actually a bit early."

"Sorry, but this happens when I get nervous."

"You´re nervous?"

"Well, it's not every day the hottest guy in the gym asks you out," he shrugs as Armie scoffs and shakes his head. "What? You have any doubts you´re the hottest guy in that place?"

"I can be cocky, but not enough to admit I'm the hottest guy anywhere," he shrugs. "Anyway, you wanna come in for a drink? The club is not that far, so we still have some time to waste."

"I think that would be a great idea."

Armie steps to the side, opening the door wider for William to come in. He closes the door behind them, telling himself to just relax and enjoy the night, no matter what happens.

"What can I get you?"

"A beer is fine."

"Okay then," he rushes to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles at the fridge and opens them before heading back to the living room, where William is silently observing his posters and magazines. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he says before taking a sip. "Your house is incredible."

"Thank you, I´ve put a lot of work on it, but it ended up being exactly what I wanted and needed."

"I can see you put a lot of effort on it, but that seems to be something you do often."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"For the few words we have spoken, yes, that´s what I think of you."

"I may disappoint you."

William shakes his head as they take a seat on the couch. "I don´t think you will, specially because you´ve been quite honest with me, which I appreciate."

"Since you brought that up, I really need to apologize for yesterday. After I left the gym, I felt a bit weird for telling you all those stuff just as I asked you out. I was sure you would call or text me cancelling everything."

"Like I said, I appreciate your honesty. Not to mention, I would never turn down a date with you."

Armie can´t really help a smug smile from appearing on his face, but he has a feeling William doesn´t really mind. As they drink their beer, conversation starts running smooth and the minutes go by faster than expected. When Armie leasts expect, instead of heading out to the club, he´s already lying down on the couch, William on top of him and their shirts and jeans long gone.

With his head tilted back, Armie closes his eyes and moans softly as William runs his hand down his sides and inside his boxers, wrapping it around his cock and pumping it slowly. He wraps his legs around William´s hips, grips onto his hair and pulls him closer, kissing him hungrily. It seems like they are not even gonna make it to the bed, but Armie honestly couldn't care less.

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The lights are dimmed, people wandering around the place like bees in a giant hive. Silently, Timothée watches as a few guys pass him by, some of them eyeing him up and down, others gesturing for him to come closer and occasionally one comes up to him, tries to come up with something fun or witty to say, but it always ends the exact same. He turns them down or straight up ignores them.

He scoffs at the irony of it all, aware that just three months ago at this time of night he would already have gone through at least a little make out session. But now, despite feeling a lot more like himself the past couple of days, he knows anyone he hooks up with wouldn´t really do the trick.

There´s only one person in his mind and no matter what he does, he simply can´t erase him.

_ Not that you want to. _

He shakes his head, turns around and watches as the bartenders run around the place, chaotically working on dozens of drinks all at the same time. No wonder he had often gotten the wrong drink in bars like this.

"Hi," he hears a deep voice say beside him, which causes him to jump. "Sorry, I didn´t mean to scary you."

"Not scared, just startled."

"Good, I´d hate to be the guy to scare you off."

The seductive smile on the guy´s face, paired with his deep brown eyes and scruff could be everything Timothée needed to surrender himself. Even if it wasn´t a perfect night, he could still have some fun, but he knows he isn´t ready for that. Not yet at least.

"Look, I appreciate you coming here, but I´m with some friends here and even if I wasn´t, I´m not at all interested."

"Wow, are you always that direct?"

He shrugs, "some would say this is my best feature."

Before the man can reply, the bartender places Timothée´s drinks on the counter and he thanks him, taking them all in his hands. He gives the man one last quick look, nods and heads back to his table, squeezing himself through the sea of people while doing his best not spill anything.

"....but I plan on sending one to him by tomorrow."

"Send what to who?," he asks while sliding to his seat. With a cocked eyebrow, Timothée hands off the drinks, his eyes wandering from Zoe to Chris. "Are you guys gonna tell me what is going on or am I gonna have to guess?"

"I asked Zoe if she had sent Armie a copy of the magazine."

"And I was explaining to him that I plan on..."

"I already did," he interrupts her.

"Excuse me?"

"I already did," he repeats. "I got the copy you gave me, wrote a little something on the inside and sent it to him. I sent it under the magazine's address, of course, that way there´s some hope he will actually read it and not just throw it on the garbage."

Chris nods, his eyes moving from Zoe to Timothée. "I'm surprised, but also a lot proud of you for reaching out. Even if under a disguise."

"Not completely a disguise, it is my name attached to the article at the end of the day. Not only that, the article itself is kind of an ode to him, with a lot of things only the two of us would understand."

"Oh, so there are little secrets hidden in the article?"

"A few."

Zoe smirks, patting Timothée´s back. "You´re a genius my friend."

"A genius wouldn´t have taken two months to write that thing down."

"You did it in the end, that´s what matters."

"You did and it is your best work yet, so you should be really proud of yourself."

"I´m mostly relieved, to be honest," he says as they chuckle, nodding their heads. "But I´m also quite proud of myself for doing so."

"You´re about to enter the hall of some of the best works of Cultural Affair, my friend."

"Does that come with a raise?"

Zoe laughs, shaking her head. "I wouldn´t count on it."

"Well, that´s a shame."

"I can pay for the drinks though."

"I´ll take that."

"What a surprise."

"Okay, since we´re in this lovey dovey vibe, I wanna make a toast," Chris says reaching for his glass, a large smile on his face while Zoe and Timothée turn their query eyes to his direction. "To Timothée and the brilliant and heartfelt article he delivered. You did an amazing job, my friend and I´m really proud of you for that."

Timothée smiles, nodding his head. "Thank you, guys. I couldn´t have done it without you."

**  
  
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**  
  
  
**

"Thanks, Kim," Timothée says while reaching for the two cups on the balcony, a gentle smile on his face. He throws a few pennies on the tipping pot, then makes his way out of the coffee shop, strutting down the street.

His eyes wander around him, taking in every little detail that surrounds him, his mind already searching for the next topic. He nods at the doorman as he makes it inside the building, heading straight to the elevator. He watches the doors close, his foot tapping the floor to the rhythm of the song that plays.

As the elevator beeps, he stands up straight and steps out the second he has enough space. He nods at some of his colleagues, smiles at a woman that passes him by and heads straight to his desk, placing the two cups down before taking off his bag.

"Good morning," Zoe says excitedly as Timothée turns to face her.

"Good morning," he hands her one of the cups. "Your coffee, my dear."

"Thank you," she blows him a kiss and winks. "So, have you gone online to read some of the comments on your article?"

"No, I haven't. How bad it is?"

"Bad?," Zoe scoffs, shaking her head. "Timothée you got more comments in twenty four hours than we ever saw in the four years of this magazine. Your article is a hit and everyone wants to know more about the adventures of Timothée and Armie. Too bad there's a lot you can't really share."

"Well, I could write about it, but you'd have to make my column r rated," Timothée smirks, sitting down on his chair and placing his feet up on the desk.

"I could do that," she winks as Timothée chuckles. "No, but seriously Timothée, the response to your article has been truly amazing. People are really invested in the way you told Armie's story, how you made them feel close to him somehow."

Timothée can't help but let a wide smile take over his face. Even if he can't be with Armie right now, at least he was able to let people know just how amazing of a person he is.

"Well, I should go to work now."

"Yeah, me too."

"Have lunch with me today?"

"Of course."

"Okay, then I'll see you later. Now get to work, cause there's even more people hooked on your column now."

"Yes, boss," Timothée salutes her before pulling his feet down and turning around on the chair, eyes wandering at the computer. He clicks on a few files, erases some things and eventually enters the magazine's page, checking some of the comments on the newest issue.

He feels a huge sense of pride while reading them, happy to see all the amazing words people have for him, specially after so many weeks of hard work. He logs off of the magazine's page, then opens a new page, entering his email address. He leans back, fingers tapping on the desk as he waits for all the emails to show up on his screen.

He frowns at one of the emails, clicks on it and watches it fill up his screen. He scans through the long email, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open. He blinks a couple of times, not entirely sure he is seeing things right, every word closer to bringing tears to his eyes.

"Hey, Tim, I was thinking that maybe...,"

He hears Zoe's voice in the distance and shakes his head, nearly getting out of a trance. He turns to look at her, his face of pure surprise.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"I just got an extremely long email congratulating me for the article, saying over and over again how great it was and thanking me for the way I talked about Armie."

"Well, I did tell you about the amazing reviews."

He shakes his head. "No, you don't understand, this is different."

"Why?"

"It's from Armie's parents."

Zoe stares down at him in disbelief, taking a long minute to let it all sink in.

"Wow, that's...that's unexpected."

"How did they even manage to get my email?," he shakes his head, fingers running through his hair. "This is crazy, Zoe."

"You think that means he read it?," she asks as Timothée looks up at her.

"Well, they surely read it, but I don't know about him."

"Whether he read it or not, they will eventually talk to him about it, right?"

"Zoe, I don't even know what to think right now. I should have gotten some booze instead of coffee."

Zoe chuckles, a hand resting on Timothée's shoulder. "Are you gonna answer them?"

"Saying what?"

"Thanking them for reaching out? Timothée they sent this willingly, there's clearly no bad blood on their part. If this isn't a sign for you, I don't know what else you could need."

**  
  
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**  
  
  
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"Any chance he actually forgot about us?," Armie asks while leaning against the wall, his eyes down to Lee, who stands on the opposite side of the door, his foot tapping on the floor.

"I wouldn´t put it pass Taylor, to be honest."

Armie chuckles, his eyes wandering around the empty hallway as they wait. It takes Taylor another two minutes to actually show up by the door, wide eyed and sweaty. Armie exchanges a quick look with Lee before making it inside the apartment, his eyes wandering around the place.

"Everything okay around here?"

"Yeah, everything´s alright. I woke up a little later than expected, so I´m rushing out with lunch."

"You could have called us and asked for help, Taylor."

"I know and I was going to, but then I had to stop to go on a quick conference call and when I came back, it was already too late and I knew you guys were probably on your way. But I´m just finishing up, so there´s no need to worry."

"If you say so," Armie shrugs, walking over to the kitchen and placing the paper bag he is holding down. "We brought Vodka, do you have Coke and lemon here?"

"Yeah, it´s on the fridge. Make yourself at home, I´m gonna finish our steak."

"Are we allowed to know what´s the menu?," Lee asks from the living room, setting a few movie cases down on the coffee table. "Or is it a surprise?"

"Steak and spaghetti a carbonara."

"Wow, what a fancy Friday lunch we´re having today."

"I get inspired sometimes," he says with a smirk as Armie chuckles, nodding his head. He leans against the stove, reaching out for Armie with his foot, nudging his sides. "So, you disappeared for almost two days, how was it with your new boyfriend?"

"William is not my boyfriend."

"You did go out with him two nights in a row," Lee teases as Armie shrugs.

"We didn´t even make it out of the house on the first date," he smirks as Taylor and Lee exchange a look. "But yesterday we just went out for a couple of drinks. He's a nice guy, he's handsome and really intelligent, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"If you say so."

"I do say so."

Taylor shrugs and turns off the stove, taking the frying pan to the counter, where the plates are already set. He hears the phone ringing and sighs, rushing over to it in the living room.

"Hello? Uncle Paul? Why you..."

Armie frowns, making his way to the living room the moment he hears his father´s name. He crosses his arms, leaning against the couch as he watches Taylor, who´s body seems to tense up all of a sudden.

"Yeah, I´ll pass it to him," he says before turning around, handing the phone out to Armie. "Your dad needs to talk to you."

"Why is he calling you?"

"He tried calling you, but you were not answering it," he explains, nearly shoving the phone against Armie´s chest. "Just talk to him, okay?"

Armie nods, pressing the phone against his ears, although his eyes remain locked on Taylor. He hears his father´s voice on the other end of the line, a lump on his throat and shaky hands as he starts talking to him, his voice saying more than words could ever do.

**  
  
  
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**  
  
  
  
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Timothée grips onto the steering wheel of his car, his lips pressed together as he stares at the house in front of him. The car is nowhere to be seen, but he can see the lights are on and the curtains are wide open, so there's someone in the house. He takes a couple of deep breaths, his heart beating faster each second that goes by.

He could turn on the car and drive back home, he could forget about this whole thing and just find a way to move along with his life, but he knows it's ridiculous. He's been practicing what to say for almost twenty four hours, staring at the long email his parents sent like it was the finest artwork.

He needs to do this and he needs to do this right now, or else he might chicken out and never do it again.

He steps out of the car, takes in the fresh air and locks the door behind him. The walk from his car to the front door though, seems like it takes an eternity and he can feel his hands shaking as close as he gets. He rings the doorbell, biting on his lip as he waits for him to open, in his head all the words he practiced for so long.

"Hi, can I help you?"

Timothée snaps out of his thoughts to see a tall, red haired woman standing in front of him, her full lips painted in red lipstick. It doesn´t take more than five seconds for him to realize who it is, an instant regret building up deep inside of him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

_ Stop doing this, just ask for him. The fact she is here doesn't mean anything. _

"You´re Scarlett, right?"

She nods, a little smile on the corner of her lips. "And you are Timothée, the writer. I was wondering if we would ever meet, just didn't expect it to be in such a moment."

Timothée frowns, slightly confused by her choice of words.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You came here to talk to Armie about his mom, I suppose?"

"No, not really. I´ve been meaning to talk to him for a while and just now managed to do so."

"Oh," she mumbles, nodding her head. "Well, I´m sorry but he is not here. I think he will be in Scarsdale for the whole weekend, which is why he asked me to look out for Archie. If you want I can tell him you stopped by and..."

As she keeps on talking, Timothée suddenly realizes what is happening. Armie isn´t home, he's back at his parents house and something happened with his mother to make him drive all the way there after barely a week.

"You mentioned his mother," he interrupts as Scarlett nods. "Did she..."

Scarlett nods before Timothée can finish his phrase and the look in his face is of clear pain, even for someone who doesn't know him.

"When did he go?"

"He left with the boys around two in the afternoon. He said the boys will be here around Monday afternoon, but he isn't sure when he's coming back. I think right now, all he can think of is being with his dad."

"Yeah, I can imagine that's all he is thinking of."

"You want me to tell him you stopped by?"

"No, there's no need for that," he smiles. "But thank you anyway."

"You´re welcome."

Timothée nods, then turns on his heels, slowly walking back to his car. He gets in, a couple of tears forming on his eyes as he repeatedly beats on the steering wheel. He can´t even imagine the pain Armie is going through at the moment and he is far away from him, unable to help.


	30. Say Your Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face to face

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What else can I do, Zoe?"

"Wait for him to come back?"

Timothée shakes his head, his curls falling down his eyes as he sits on the couch, legs up and arms tightly wrapped around them. He looks even younger sitting there, the pain in his eyes almost as if someone from his own family had passed away.

"I don't know when he's coming back, Zoe. I need to go there and talk to him, make sure he is alright."

"Tim, I get that you waited too long and now you want to get this over with, but..."

"You don't get it," he interrupts her, pushing some of his curls back. "I can't simply stay here knowing he's going through all of this, Zoe. I can't just sit down and wonder, not after everything I heard him say about her."

"Look," Chris's voice is serious and low, a clear contrast to his usual lively one. "No one wants you to talk to him more than I do, but I think Zoe is right. This is a delicate moment, one where he probably has a ton of shit to deal with, so definitely not the right time for this kind of conversation."

"You guys don't get it," he sighs, burying his face in his hands. "This isn't about me, my feelings or even us getting back together. This is about him and all the pain he is going through, okay? More than once I heard him talking about how scared he was of losing her, how unprepared he was to this whole situation, so I know how devastated he must be right now and I can't just sit down and wait."

Chris tries to find a word to say, but finds himself unable to produce anything. He sighs, his eyes wandering to Zoe, who simply shrugs.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm going to Scarsdale first thing in the morning."

As Chris and Zoe keep looking at him, Timothée gets up and makes his way to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He's been dwelling on what to do for a couple of hours, debating with himself exactly what is right or wrong. And maybe he should take Chris and Zoe's words in consideration, maybe this isn't the right time. But no matter what he comes up with, there's always a voice in the back of his head telling him to run to Armie and he's tired of casting that voice away. For once, he's gonna listen to his heart and not his brain.

**  
  
  
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Armie opens the door to the bedroom, a lump on his throat as he steps inside, the memories immediately consuming him. He closes his eyes, inhales deeply and tells himself everything is gonna be alright, that he will find a way to make it through this.

Carefully, he walks over to the bed and sets the tray on the nightstand while taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His father is not asleep anymore, actually he isn't even sure he slept at all through the night, but right now that's not really important. Right now he needs to aid him, make sure he is well fed and capable of standing on his own two feet.

"I brought you breakfast."

"I don't want anything," his voice comes in almost a whisper, his head down and his blond hair disheveled.

"I know it's not easy right now, dad, but you need to eat something."

"I doubt I can get anything down right now."

Armie sighs, scratches the back of his neck and reaches out for the mug of coffee, trying to hand it to his father, who remains motionless.

"Dad, we have a long day ahead of us. I can't go through this alone, so please at least try to eat something."

"I wasn't ready," he says a little louder, his eyes finally finding Armie. "I thought I was ready, I thought the last couple years had prepared me for this, but it didn't. I don't know what to do now, Armand, I don't know where to go from here."

"No one is ever ready for something like this, dad," he says while a couple of tears start to stream down his face. "But you were by her side until the very last second, you loved her intensely and as much as she deserved. You helped, nurtured and made her feel better during the bad moments. You were everything she needed and I know she would want you to be strong, for me and for yourself."

"How are we gonna do this, Armand? How can we go on without her?"

Armie shrugs, his free hand reaching out for his father. "I don't know, dad. But we're gonna have to try, because that's what she wanted us to do. Last time I talked to her, she said she wasn't angry or sad about anything, she was happy for every moment she spent with us. We have to make those moments count, in her honor."

Paul nods slowly, although he knows it won't be easy to go through his day to day life with Victoria by her side. They were together since he was twenty years old, they shared so many laughs, tears and stories. He will never be the same without her.

"Dad," Armie says, trying to catch his attention. "Please, try to eat something."

"Armie, I don't..."

"Just a little bit, I'm begging you."

Paul stares at him for a second, then gently nods. As Armie hands him the mug of coffee, they hear the doorbell ringing downstairs.

"I'm gonna go see who it is," he says while getting up. He reaches for the tray and places down where he was previously sitting, his hand gently squeezing his father's shoulder. "Try to eat something, or at least drink the coffee, I'm coming for the tray later."

Paul nods and Armie makes it to the door, stopping it as he hears his father's voice echo in the bedroom.

"What time is the funeral?"

"At eleven," he looks over his shoulder, eyes locked on Paul, who right now looks like a broken man. No matter how much pain he is in, how difficult things are for him right now, Armie has to remain strong for his father.

**  
  
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An eerie silence takes over the house, being interrupted only by the vibrating of Armie's phone, which is by now filled with thousands of messages. Armie has given up on reading them though, since after the tenth he already had a good idea of what they all were. Some were from people who genuinely wanted to pay him their condolences, but a lot of them simply came from people who pretended to be sorry, while truly only being curious.

As if his mother had not been through enough already while alive, now that she's gone there were all these people trying to feed from her pain, only so they could have something to say.

Sitting on the stool, elbows pressed against the counter and face buried in his hands, Armie hears as the vibrating continues, a part of him is really close to throwing his phone against the window. The three hours of sleep he had last night, which at the time seemed like a miracle, now proves not to be enough.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, tries his best to keep himself calm amid everything and raises his gaze as he hears footsteps approaching. Soon enough Lee and Taylor appear on the kitchen door, comforting smiles on their faces.

"Hey," Lee says while taking a seat across from Armie on the counter. "We took care of everything already."

"Thanks, guys, I don't know what I would without you here with me."

"Did you manage to get some rest?," Taylor asks, worried in his voice.

"Not really, but doubt I'd be able to relax right now."

Lee nods, eyes wandering to Taylor for a brief moment. "Is there anything else you'd like us to do before we go?"

Armie sighs and looks around the kitchen, not really sure of anything at the moment.

"I don't think so," he mumbles while getting up. "Well, actually there's one thing you guys could do."

"Anything."

"I need to take a shower and get ready for the funeral, can you keep an eye on my dad? I don't want to leave him alone for too long."

Taylor nods immediately. "Where is him?"

"He's sitting at the back, staring at her garden. He doesn't wanna talk, but if you guys could check on him from time to time, I'd appreciate it."

"You don't have to worry, we'll make sure he is okay."

"Thanks," Armie practically mumbles before making his way out of the kitchen, his feet nearly dragging him across the house. He stops by the stairs, his eyes landing on the coffee table where a copy of Cultural Affair lies. He swallows dryly, closes his eyes and then shakes his head.

This is not the time for that.

**  
  
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**  
  
  
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Timothée slowly walks down the grass, his head down and his hands stuck in his jacket pockets. Clouds are taking over the sky, a hint of rain in the horizon, which seems quite fitting for the moment. A death is always painful, it leaves the ones who remain alive feeling empty, confused and alone.

Timothée only had to go through this once in his life, when he lost his grandmother, but she was almost ninety, she had been struggling for a while and in the last time he saw her, she said she wanted peace. He felt for her, of course, he cried a couple of nights before going to sleep, thinking of all the time they spent together, how sweet and caring she was. 

Things were different now. While he had never met Armie´s mother, he heard many stories about her, he saw through Armie´s eyes just how kind she was. And judging by the person Armie was, Timothée could only imagine she truly was a remarkable woman. One he would never get the chance to meet, to ask for forgiveness for the pain he put her son through.

He hears murmurs in the distance and raises his gaze, watching as a couple of feet away from him about a dozen people gather around, some in black, some with their heads down and others holding Bibles in their hands. Among the people, two of them stood out from the crowd, mostly because it was easy to tell they were the most affected ones.

Armie had his arm wrapped around his father, a few tears streaming down his cheek as he stared ahead. Even in the distance, Timothée could tell Armie´s eyes were nearly empty, his expression of someone tired and lost. It killed him to see him like this, but it was even more painful knowing there wasn´t much he could do to change things around.

Scared of what his presence could cause, Timothée remains distant enough not to be seen, but close enough to hear what the priest is saying. He leans against a tree, his green eyes -which now are filled with tears- wandering from the casket to Armie.

Across the field, among the dozen of people who join Armie and Paul, Taylor looks around the cemetery. He never liked them, always felt a weird shiver down his spine walking along the gravestones, but this time he didn´t feel anything but sadness. Obviously his pain wasn´t as big as Paul and Armie´s, but he also felt like burying a family member, an aunt, a second mother. Victoria had always been a very important person in his life.

He sighs, but frowns once his eyes land on someone a few feet away from the crowd, someone who mostly seems to be hiding in the shadows. It takes him a moment, but he finally recognizes the face, which makes him equally confused and angry.

"What is he doing here?," he practically mumbles, loud enough only for Lee to hear.

"What?"

"Him," he gestures with his head. "What is he doing here?"

"Taylor, now is not the time."

"You really think him being here is a good idea?"

"I think it´s none of our business actually."

"The last thing Armie needs right now is this guy walking back into his life, Lee."

"I think Armie is a big guy, who can make his own decisions, including if he wants to talk to him or not. The best we can do is step back from this whole thing and just be there for him if he needs us."

"You mean when he needs us, right? Because so far this guy has only brought pain to Armie."

"That´s not true and you know it," he whispers, a hand resting on Taylor´s shoulder. "I know you´re just trying to protect him from getting hurt again, specially right now. But whatever happens with them has nothing to do with us, so let´s just mind our own business, okay?"

Taylor nods, stealing one last look at Timothée before he focuses his attention back on the priest, who opens his Bible once again, reciting a few words.

Armie keeps his father close, helping support him through this whole situation, or at least trying his best. He isn´t even sure how he's keeping himself up right now, let alone if he can actually be of help. His father looks completely empty, like he has died along with his mother and in parts, he knows that is correct. A part of Paul is no longer there with them, just like a part of Armie has also gone with her.

The moment the casket begins its descent, Armie hears his father´s sobs and he can barely control himself. He takes a couple of deep breaths though, closes his eyes for a second and does his best to keep himself together. The image though, will be engraved in his mind for the rest of his life.

Flowers are thrown in, cries are heard all around him and Armie simply stares ahead. He wanted more time with her, he wanted to share more laughs and tears with her, but now all he's got are memories. When he steps closer, ready to throw in the first shovel of dirt, Taylor and Lee appear by his side, helping him through the whole thing.

He thanks them with a simple nod, then walks back to his father, holding him close. As he stands there, his blue eyes wander around the place and he catches a glimpse of someone walking away. He frowns, his eyes locked on the silhouette as it disappears in the distance. Was he starting to have hallucinations now? Or was he really there?

"Is everything okay?," Paul asks, catching his attention.

Armie turns back to his father, who has a slightly confused look in his eyes, and nods. "Yes, everything is okay."

**  
  
  
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* * *

**  
  
  
**

There´s murmurs all around the house, people walking through the kitchen and living room, most of them family members who flew in to be with Armie and Paul during this difficult moment. Sitting on the couch, mugs of coffee in their hands, are Lee and Taylor, who watch the whole thing in silence.

They´ve helped Armie with everything they could, but now his aunts and cousins have stepped in, which gave them some time to sit down and rest. Although resting in a moment like this felt weird and slightly unsensitive, which was also a strange thing to feel.

When the doorbell rings, they both exchange a quick look, as if trying to decide which one of them will be getting that. Lee cocks his eyebrows and Taylor rolls his eyes, placing the mug down on the coffee table before he pushes himself up.

He drags himself across the living room, taking his time to open the door, only to be welcomed with a sight he didn´t really expect. He sighs, a hand slipping to his pocket and he nods his head.

"Of course it had to be me," he mumbles.

"You´re Taylor, right?"

"And you´re the famous Timothée Chalamet," he replies as Timothée nods. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you´re doing, trying to pay my condolences to Armie."

"It´s not the same thing," Taylor fires back. "I´ve been here by his side since day one, I have helped him through the pain you put him through, I´ve knew and loved his mother like she was my own, so don't compare us, please."

Timothée sighs. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he isn't going to give up, not right now.

"I get it, you don't like me and I know you have a right to, I gave you enough reasons to hate me. But I´m not gonna leave this house until Armie tells me to, so can you please just let me in?"

Taylor simply stares at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. Before he can answer though, Lee appears behind him, a confused look on his face until he sees Timothée standing there.

"Timothée?"

"Lee, right?," he nods in response and Timothée stands his hand out. "It's nice to finally meet you, even though I wish the situation was different."

"So do I."

"Look, dude, it's better if you just go."

"Taylor, I've already told you, I´m not leaving unless Armie tells me to."

"For fuck´s sake," Taylor mumbles, shaking his head.

"Taylor, remember what I said earlier today? This is not our fight, so just let the guy in, okay?"

"Are you serious?"

"This is between him and Armie, so get the hell away from the door and let him in."

Timothée watches the exchange between them in complete silence, only his eyes moving from one to the other, waiting to see what happens. After a minute, Taylor sighs and finally takes a step back, his hand gesturing for Timothée to come inside.

"He's at the back," Lee says. "Just go through this corridor and you'll find him."

Timothée nods, a small but thankful smile on his lips. He takes a deep breath, his hands slightly shaky, but he makes it through the living room and the kitchen, thankfully attracting next to no attention. By the time he reaches the door, he needs to stop. Armie is standing only a couple of feet away from him, the closest they have been in a little over a month and his heart nearly jumps out through his mouth.

He taps the wall gently, notices as Armie´s body stiffens and then slowly turns around. Much to Timothée´s surprise, he doesn't look at all surprised when their eyes meet and he can only assume Taylor told him he was at the cemetery. Either that or he...

"So it was you at the cemetery," Armie manages to say while taking a few steps closer.

"You saw me?"

"You were leaving, I happened to catch you in the distance."

Timothée nods slowly, his feet heavy as he tries to step closer to Armie.

"What are you doing here, Timothée?"

"I came to see you."

"Now?"

"I went after you, but you were not home. Scarlett told me what happened and I couldn´t simply sit down in my apartment, not knowing how you were doing. So, defying everyone's opinion, I decided to come and see you."

Armie nods slowly, hands in his pockets, blue eyes locked on Timothée, but not even his sight is enough to bring a spark to them at the moment.

"You really thought this was the right moment for us to talk?"

"That's not what I´m here for, Armie."

"Isn´t it?"

"I´m not gonna lie, I'd love to sit down and have an honest conversation with you, but I know you´re not in the right mindset for that at the moment. But I needed to see you, to say that if you need anything, I´m here for you. I know how much she meant to you, so I can imagine how difficult this moment is for you. Whether you hate me or not, know that I want what's best for you."

Armie looks down, not entirely sure of what to say. A part of him wishes to pull him close, hold him in his arms, let his body heat and soft touch comfort him. But the sadness that overtakes him at the moment is bigger than anything, and it keeps him from doing anything other than just breathe.

"You don't have to say anything," Timothée says after a minute, taking a small business card and placing down on the small corner table near him. "It would be too much of me to ask you to talk, to ask for anything, to be honest. I'm staying in town until Monday night though, so if you feel like I deserve some of your time, this is where I'm staying."

Before Armie can answer, Timothée turns on his heels, about to walk back inside. He stops and looks over his shoulder at Armie, a sympathetic smile on his lips.

"I´m sorry for your loss, I really am," is all he says before making it back inside and across the house, Lee and Taylor´s stare following him until he is out of the door.

* * *

**  
  
  
**

Armie stops in front of the mirror, water dripping down his naked body as he looks himself in the eye. It's been a long and tiresome day, his mind sometimes shutting down completely, other times working on overdrive. As then, as if everything happening wasn't already enough, Timothée decided to show up again.

Being face to face after a whole month, seeing his glossy eyes and tender smile, it brought back so many memories, but also so much agony and confusion. His mom was gone, his father was going through a horrible moment, William kept texting him from Brooklyn and there he was, completely unaware of how to proceed with life.

Armie had gone through his share of bad moments, but for the first time in his life he found himself completely lost.

He shakes his head, reaches for a towel and dries himself off, tying the towel around his waist as he makes it out of the bathroom. He walks over to the closet, picks some random clothes and puts it on, fingers running through his short and wet hair. A cool breeze comes from the balcony door and he steps out, watching the quiet street beneath him.

A knock on the door catches his attention and he walks back inside, trying his best to put on a smile when he sees Lee step inside, a tray on his hands. He bites his lip, takes a seat at the edge of the bed and waits for Lee to sit down too, the tray now lying in between them.

"You didn't come down for dinner, so I decided to bring you something to eat."

Armie nods. "Thanks."

"We made sure your dad ate something too," Lee says while handing him a glass of orange juice. "He didn't want to, much like I know you don´t, but Taylor was quite persuasive and he ended up eating a little bit."

"Seriously, thank you. You guys are doing a lot more than you should."

"Bullshit," he shakes his head. "If we could, we would do even more. We know this is a very delicate moment, you guys need all the help you can get. And we´re here for you, no matter what it is you need, we´re here."

Armie nods and takes a few sips of his juice, his body quickly reacting to its first contact with food in such long hours. He coughs a little, reaches for the fork and takes a few bites of the eggs and sausage, then leans back on his pillows, his eyes wandering around the room.

"Hey, I´ve been doing my best not to be a curious motherfucker in a moment like this, but I can´t handle any longer."

Armie chuckles, the first hint of true joy in his face for the last thirty hours. "You wanna know about Timothée, right?," he asks before Lee can say anything else.

"If you're willing to talk."

"It wasn't much of a conversation, to be honest. He knew the time wasn't right, said he's sorry for my loss and then walked away."

"Has he gone back to Brooklyn?"

"No, he's staying here until Monday night. He left a business card from the hotel he's staying at."

"Are you going to go there and talk to him?"

Armie doesn't answer, he simply stares into space. Is he even in the right mindspace to have the conversation they need to have?

"Armie?"

"I don´t know, Lee. I´m not sure I can do much right now, let alone sit down and talk to Timothée. Seeing him today was already enough to flood my head with memories, that paired up with all the grief inside of me was too much. I don't have energy for anything right now."

"You don't have to go now. He's staying until Monday night, right? You have plenty of time to rest, think and then go see him."

Armie nods.

"Look, I know the time isn´t right, but will it ever be? There will always be something happening, something that will keep you two from talking, so I say you take advantage of this opportunity if you can. Just don´t tell Taylor, alright? He was really mad at Timothée for showing up at the funeral."

"So you guys saw him there too?"

Lee frowns. "You saw him?"

"I saw him walking away," he explains. "Were you two planning on telling me?"

"To be honest, neither one of us was really sure of what to do, but then he showed up here anyway. Still, Taylor wasn't happy at all at his appearance, I had to calm him down otherwise he wouldn't even let him in." He stops for a moment, bites his lip and looks Armie in the eye. "Did I do wrong?"

He shakes his head. "No, I think you did the right thing. He was trying to be nice, there was no reason to send him off."

"Good," Lee smiles, pats Armie´s shoulder and then gets up. "I´m gonna leave you alone now, call us if you need anything and please, try to eat a little bit more."

"I´ll try," he whispers as Lee nods, then turns on his heels and walks over to the door. "Hey Lee."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

**  
  
**

* * *

**  
  
  
**

Timothée closes the door behind him, a loud sigh escaping him as he runs his fingers through his curly hair, his eyes wandering around the small and rather dark hotel room. After going to the cemetery and to Armie's parent's house, he spent the rest of his Saturday inside the room, even resorting to delivery to make sure he had something to eat.

When the Sunday morning came, Timothée got out of bed, had breakfast along with the other guests and quickly got out, rummaging through the streets of Scarsdale. Only when the Sun was starting to set he decided to walk back to the hotel, seclude himself inside those tiny walls once again.

Tired, he takes off his jacket, throws it to the armchair then kicks off his boots, lying down in bed straight afterwards. He eyes the ceiling, bites his lip and reaches for his phone, seeing no new messages. He won't deny that a part of him is slightly disappointed that Armie didn't contact him, but the less selfish side of him knows he is probably the last thing on Armie's mind.

Maybe Chris and Zoe were right. He should have stayed in Brooklyn, waited for Armie to come back and then he would go after him, talk to him and explain everything. Let him know just how stupid he was for ending things before they could even have a proper start. They never even had the chance to go on a proper date.

He groans, tosses his phone to the bedside table and gets up, pulling off his shirt. As he is about to unzip his pants, he hears a faint knock on the door and frowns.  _ It's probably the girl from the front desk again, checking on you every half hour just like she did yesterday. If I were you, which I am, I'd just... _

As he opens the door though, a frown forms in his face, his eyes locked on the person standing in front of him.

"Lee?"

"Can we talk?"


	31. Glory of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It´s hard to say I´m sorry

"Lee?"

"Can we talk?"

It takes Timothée a moment, but he eventually nods, taking a step back and gesturing for Lee to come in. He looks around the room, tosses the jacket, which was on the armchair, to his bed and reaches for his shirt, putting it on quickly.

"Sit down, please."

"No, it's okay, I won't take long."

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

Lee smiles, aware of exactly what he is trying to say. "Armie is okay, you don't have to worry about him."

Timothée grows even more confused, trying to understand what could cause Lee to come see him in the middle of the night.

"I know you're probably confused as hell on why I'm here," as Timothée shrugs, he chuckles. "But I needed to tell you not to leave before talking to Armie."

"I don't think he wants to talk to me, Lee."

"Things are a bit chaotic right now, but I need you to be a little bit patient with him. I guess you've noticed that he can be quite stubborn."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then please, I'm begging you, don't go back home before talking to him."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, taking a step closer to Lee, million thoughts going through his head at the moment.

"Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes. But the past three days have been complicated, he's trying his best to readjust to his new reality and take care of his father. He just needs some time for himself, but he will eventually come around and talk to you, okay?"

"Okay."

Lee nods, pats his shoulder and turns around, opening the door. He takes a deep breath, looks at Timothée over his shoulder and smiles.

"He really likes you, Timothée, he just needs time to get his thoughts together."

Timothée smiles. Hearing the words come from Lee's mouth somehow makes him feel different, as if it wasn't all in his mind.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie lets out an exasperated sigh, his back up against the wall as he stares straight ahead, his blue eyes with the slight hint of sparkle, but still dead compared to how they usually look. He has always been so full of life, an easy smile constantly appearing on his face and now, now he has trouble even making out of bed early in the morning.

He pushes himself off of the wall, rushes down the stairs and looks around the living room, before heading to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, takes a bottle of water and takes a few sips of it while slowly making his way to the backyard. He leans on the threshold, eyeing his father, who sits on the grass, hands brushing against the flowers his mother spent so long taking care of.

Armie misses her, but he can't even imagine what his father is going through at the moment. They spent almost thirty four years of their lives together, travelled around the world, been through ups and downs, faced all the difficulties life imposed on them and now Paul was all alone. Alone with his thoughts, alone with the memories that were haunting him every single hour of the days. The house smelled of her, its objects were all like small hints of her personality.

She was everywhere.

He takes another sip of water, takes a step back and turns around, walking back to the living room. Lee and Taylor had gone out to do some shopping, make sure they left enough grocery for them before heading back to Brooklyn. Armie knew he would never be able to thank his friends for all the help, without them he probably wouldn't have made it.

Tired, both physically and mentally, Armie sits down on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table, knocking something down while doing so. He looks down, reaches for the magazine and bites his lip, an immediate lump on his throat as he realizes what it is. His hand runs down the cover of the magazine, slightly nervous with what he might find inside. He flips through the pages, different articles coming to his eyes before he stops in his. His name is written in large letters on the top left corner, underneath it, a brief tagline, followed by Timothée's name.

He takes a deep breath, brings the magazine closer and starts reading, a small smile forming on his lip before the end of the first paragraph. He chuckles at some of the references Timothée makes, and is genuinely surprised at how lighthearted the article is. So far Timothée has done an amazing job and he can't help but be proud of him.

He stops when he hears the door open and looks over his shoulder, watching as Lee and Taylor walk inside. They place the bags down on the credenza, kick off their shoes and join him on the couch, Taylor's eyes immediately falling on the magazine in his hands.

"You finally decided to read it?"

"It was just lying here, I thought it wouldn't do no harm."

"Is it good?," Taylor asks as Armie shrugs.

"I thought it was amazing," Lee answers, attracting the eyes of his friends. "Yeah, I read it as soon as it came out. I think it suits you perfectly and I can tell you there's a lot of people online talking about it, Cultural Affair's website is filled with comments about it."

"I've noticed the influx of new followers," Armie admits. "I figured it was because of the article."

"Do you know if he's still in town?," Taylor questions Armie, placing his feet on top of the coffee table. "Or did he go back after you guys talked?"

"He told me he was leaving tonight."

"Which means, you still have time to go and talk to him."

"I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Taylor, stop.".

"What?," he shrugs. "Maybe you're okay giving this guy a chance, but I think he's already caused way too much pain. I'm sorry if my opinion diverges from yours, but that's what I think."

"The fact we have different opinions is not the problem, Taylor, the problem is that you're allowing your anger to get in the way. Armie is the one who needs to decide whether or not Timothée deserves a chance, not you and me."

Armie sits still, no words leaving his mouth as his friends stare back at him. He sighs, shakes his head and gets up, heading over to the stairs with the magazine under his arm.

"I'll be at my room," he finally says, looking at them over his shoulder. "Please, make sure to check on my dad from time to time, he's in the backyard."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée throws a jacket inside his backpack and zips it up, pushing it to the side as he lies down on the bed, legs and arms sprawled. He stares up at the ceiling, his head aching as he tries to figure out what to do with his life. He is so used to always having the answer to things right at the tip of his tongue, suddenly he can´t help but overthink everything he does.

He should hate Armie for bringing all these feelings to the surface, but he can do nothing but love him.

His phone starts ringing and he sits up on the bed, eyes wandering around the room in search of the device. He finds it by the armchair and reaches out for it, hitting the accept button as fast as he possibly can before throwing himself back on the bed once again.

"Hey, man."

"Judging by the tone of your voice, I will say things didn't really go as you planned."

"I don't even know if I had a plan, Chris. All I know is that Armie is devastated and I'm not sure this is the right moment to dump all my shit on him, he doesn't deserve it. He needs time to heal right now, to make sure his father is alright and get his life back in order. I should have listened to you and Zoe."

"You never do, Timothée."

"Then maybe it's time for me to start."

He hears a little chuckle on the other side of the line and can´t help but smile, Chris knows him too well to know he can say that over a million times and it will never happen.

"So, you didn't talk to him at all?"

"Oh no, we did talk, but it was very brief."

"I´m a curious man, Tim, you gonna have to give me more than that."

He chuckles, Chris the only person able to bring some amusement to him in a moment like this.

"I went to his parent's house, told him I went there because I wanted to see how he was doing, but I was honest with him and told him I knew it wasn´t the right time to talk about us. I left him my address, told him when I was leaving and then left."

"He didn't call or text back?"

"He didn´t," he responds. "But his friend showed up here last night to talk to me."

"His friend?"

"Yeah, the one who doesn't hate my guts."

A second of silence passes before Chris speaks again.

"Okay, I´m a little lost here."

"Taylor, the millionaire software guy who sold an app to Google, we saw a little tv segment about him the other day."

"The cute brunette we saw on the economics channel?," Timothée murmurs a reply. "He's friends with Armie?"

"One of his best friends, actually. And after everything that happened, the guy hates me. He almost didn't let me in to talk to Armie, if it wasn´t for Lee, we probably wouldn't have seen each other."

"The plot thickens," he says with a little sass on his voice, trying his best to light up Timothée´s mood. "Okay, so his friends are playing bad cop and good cop. What exactly did this Lee guy wanted to say to you?"

"He asked me not to leave without talking to Armie."

"Which is exactly what you are planning on doing."

"Chris, his mother just died. I must be the last thing he is thinking of, so maybe I should give him some space and let this whole thing pass before doing anything about it."

"Look, I told you not to go, but now you´re there, you can´t possibly come back without at least trying to have a decent and honest conversation with Armie."

"It's not the right time."

"It will never be the right time, because there will always be something happening. If his friend had the trouble of going after you, it is because he knows you and Armie need to talk, so please, please just do it."

"I'm gonna have to think about it."

"Just keep in mind, you already allowed your fear to interfere in your relationship with Armie once, don't let it happen again."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, a slight frown on his face as he realizes the room is almost completely dark, the curtains closed and all the lights off, the only illumination coming from the street lights outside. He sighs, walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge, reaching a hand out for his father, who sits quietly on the bed.

He hands him a mug and, much to his surprise, Paul takes it and sips on it, although his eyes remain lost in space. It is a sight that breaks Armie´s heart, but he knows right now his father needs to go through all of this, live his grief in whatever way he finds it best.

"How you´re doing, dad?"

Although Armie asks the question, he doesn't really expect a reply. Paul has barely spoken the last two days, which is the biggest hint of the pain he is going through. He is usually so talkative and active, the man Armie sees in front of him is almost a stranger. Much to his surprise though, Paul´s voice suddenly echoes in the dark room.

"Not good, I suppose," he nearly whispers, gripping onto the mug in his hands. He goes quiet again for a moment, but his eyes find Armie, who he studies for a second. "I´ve been so caught up on my pain that I have neglected yours."

"No. Dad, you don't have to..."

"How are you, son?"

"I'm doing alright."

Paul hints of a smile, which both surprises and comforts Armie. "You´ve always been a bad liar, haven't you?"

Armie scoffs, shrugging his shoulders as Paul leans closer, a hand cradling his face.

"How are you, son?"

"Honestly? I don´t know, dad. I´m a fucking mess right now, my feelings and thoughts are all over the place, I can barely think straight."

"I doubt anyone going through what we are going through finds it easy to put into words what they are feeling. We just need to try and go on, I guess."

Armie nods, taking his father's hand in his and squeezing it softly. He feels a couple of tears form in his eyes, but blinks them away. He can´t break down now, he needs to stay strong for his father.

"I heard you and the boys talking earlier today. Is Timothée in town?"

"Dad, we don't have to talk about him right now."

"Armand, I asked you a question."

"Yes, he is in town," he eventually answers. "He came here as soon as he found out about what happened. He said he needed to check on me."

"Have you guys talked? And I mean a serious conversation, not just words of condolences and all that bullshit."

"No, we didn´t."

"Why not?"

"Is not the time, dad."

"Armand, we don't have time. Life is passing by quicker every day, we can´t give ourselves the luxury of postponing things that can be done right now. You are in love with this guy and I know he's in love with you too, so instead of regretting your decisions in the future, go after him, tell him what you´re feeling, listen to what he has to say. Trust me, you´ll end up hating yourself if you let him slip through your fingers when you're so close to happiness."

Armie inhales deeply. He wasn't ready for this when he walked into his father´s bedroom. He watches as Paul sits up straight, takes both of his hands in his and tries his best to put on a smile.

"I miss your mother more than anything right now, and since Friday I feel like I´ve lost a part of myself. But at the same time, I´m happy we had all the years we had together, I´m happy for all the moments we shared and all the memories we made. I took a chance of walking up to her and asking her out, I didn't let that chance go away because I knew in a few days she could be with someone else. Don´t let Timothée be the one that got away, not when life is so obviously trying to bring you two back together again. All relationships have their downsides, but you´ll see that the good ones make it up for them. So go, go after the man you love."

Armie smiles when his father pulls him closer, embracing him in a tight hug. They remain in each other's arms for a couple of minutes, not a word being shared by them while tears stream down both their faces.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet hair dripping down as he looks through his closet. A part of him feels silly for looking through clothes in a moment like this, when there's so much more important things happening all around him; but at the same time, it's the first time ever since he got the call from his father on Friday that he feels like himself again, even if just a little bit.

He reaches for jeans and a black shirt, puts them on quickly and dries off his hair, taking a quick look at himself in the mirror afterwards. His hands run down his face, fingers brushing against his beard as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He turns on his heels, crosses the bedroom and reaches for his phone on the bedside table. He almost forgets about the small paper lying on his bed, but runs back for it as soon as it crosses his mind.

He closes the door behind him and rushes down the stairs, eyes falling on Lee and Taylor, who sit on the living room couch, the television on, although both of them are far more interested in whatever is on their phones.

His footsteps catch their attention though and both of them look up quickly, rather confused looks on their faces as they eye him up and down. Taylor frowns, his gaze moving to Lee for a moment, as if he could give him the answers he ached for.

"Don´t look at me," he shrugs and then turns back to Armie, a small and curious smile on his lips. "Going somewhere, bro?"

"Yeah, I´m going to talk to Timothée."

"What?"

"I had a conversation with my father, he made me realize I can´t just sit down and let things slip through my fingers as if they meant nothing. I don´t know if Timothée and I can actually make it work, but I need to at least sit down and have a conversation with him."

"I think that´s a great idea."

"Really?," Taylor groans, shaking his head. "Look, I know you're in love with him and in any other situation I would be rooting for you like a cheerleader on the end of a state championship, but this guy made it very clear he wasn't suited for a relationship. Why bother going through all of this?"

"I´m gonna ignore your very disturbing and weird comparison there, but you already gave yourself the answer to the question, Taylor," Armie shrugs, a small smile on his lips. "I´m in love with him and you can call me stupid, but the fact he came here right after he found out about my mom, it gives me a bit of hope."

"You´re doing the right thing, Armie," Lee reassures him. "And you don't have to worry about anything, we´ll keep an eye on your dad for as long as you need. Go, talk to him and solve this whole thing once for all."

"Thank you," he nods in Lee´s direction and then lays a hand on Taylor´s shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I know you´re just worried about me, but I´m gonna be alright."

"I hope so."

Armie pats his back and takes a deep breath, heading to the front door as quickly as he possibly can. He doesn't even make it out of the porch though, his eyes swiftly landing on the car that parks outside his parent's house. He frowns, watches in surprise as Timothée steps out of the car and walks towards him.

He's wearing jeans, a simple white t-shirt and his hair is a mess, but the sight still causes the same effect in Armie as it did when they first met. He´s transfixed by Timothée, completely enamored by him and even the simpler gesture makes him smile.

"What are you doing here?," he asks once Timothée is close enough to hear him well.

"I was about to drive back to Brooklyn and leave you alone, give you the space you need to live out your grief."

"And what changed your mind?"

Timothée shrugs. "I had a couple people tell me I shouldn´t leave before having a proper conversation with you, which at first sounded a bit pushy from my part, but then I realized that I came here for a reason and it would be stupid to leave without even trying."

Armie stares at him for a moment, suddenly nervous. He doesn't really know what to say, how to proceed in this situation. So far, all his relationships have been very calm, with both parts on the same page, but with Timothée everything was different and Armie found himself a bit confused.

"I can leave if you want me to, Armie."

"You said you wanted to talk," he finally says, gesturing to the armchairs by the porch, where his mother would spend her afternoons. "So, let's talk."

Timothée stares at him for a second, then nods his head and takes a seat on one of the armchairs, his hands nervously rubbing against his jeans, while his right foot taps the wooden floor repeatedly. He's never been this nervous in his entire life. He absolutely hates the feeling.

"I don't even know where to start," he admits as Armie sits across from him, equally as nervous, but his always so nonchalant attitude masquerading it for a bit, although his eyes always give him away. "There's quite a lot I need to say, but I´m not really used to doing it, so I might be really, really bad at it."

"I think I know you enough to know just how difficult this must be for you, so don't worry about me, just say whatever you want to say."

"I didn't want to take the article, I didn't think it was up my alley or that I could gain anything from it, of course my perspective on it changed after a few days with you. The thing is, you bring out of me feelings I have been suppressing for years, feelings I have no idea how to deal with, because to me, they are all new. When my father left without even a goodbye and I found myself stuck home with an overprotective mother, who wouldn't let me do anything because she was scared of me getting hurt, I started to think like her and I did everything I could not to get involved with anyone too deeply."

He shakes his head, his hands turning into fists, his knuckles turning pale with each passing second.

"For years I thought I was doing the right thing, that building all of these walls around me was the best for me, and for a while it was. But after everything that happened between us, after all these feelings came back to the surface, I slowly started to realize that I was living a lie. I was neglecting the people that cared about me, distancing myself from the ones who wanted to get to know me and while doing so, hurting not only them but myself. I ghosted more guys than I´m proud to admit, but I did it because in my head that was the only way to keep myself from getting hurt again. It was easier to send them off, then to get involved and then be left alone once again."

He pinches his nose, closes his eyes for a second and then exhales.

"My father leaving, my mother´s excessive and overprotecting behavior scarred me for life, Armie. And instead of trying to figure a way to live with those scars, I drowned myself in them and let them dictate my life. I´m not proud of the way I acted with you, I´m not happy for all the pain I might have caused you, but I didn't know what else to do. I was just scared."

"Scared of me?"

Armie´s words come out exactly like they did two months ago, the same confusion and yet tenderness he used that fateful night. Timothée nearly shivers at the realization, his mind taking him back to that hotel room.

"Scared of falling for you too hard, because I knew moving on from you once it was all over would be too fucking difficult and, I was not ready to go through all the pain being abandoned can cause you."

"We had barely started our relationship and you were scared of me breaking up with you?"

Timothée shrugs. "Another great example of how fucked up I can be, huh?"

"Why didn't you talk to me back then?"

"You have any idea how fast my heart is beating right now? How fucking sweaty I am? I was terrified of even admitting to myself that I was in love with you, let alone discuss that with you."

"You're in love with me?"

Timothée scoffs, shaking his head, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

"My stupid, shameful behavior didn´t make it obvious?"

"Is always good to hear."

Timothée sighs, buries his face in his hands and takes a few seconds for himself, trying his best to get his heartbeat back to normal, or as close to normal as possible.

"I´m sorry," he finally says, his eyes finding Armie´s. "I´m sorry for everything I said and did to you, you didn't deserve any of that."

Armie doesn´t say anything back, his blue eyes simply staring back at Timothée, while his mind and body try to work out what his next move is gonna be. He watches as Timothée suddenly gets up, drying his sweaty hands on his jeans, his curls bouncing around. He looks up at him, a frown forming on his face as Timothée swirls back and forth.

"You know what? I'm done making a fool of myself," he says. "I said what I had to say, I´m gonna go and leave you alone now. I'm sure you have a lot more important things to deal with than me, so I´m gonna save you the trouble of..."

He stops as Armie takes his hand, pulls him closer and cradles his face, his soft touch lighting up a fire inside of him. He raises his gaze, staring straight into Armie´s deep blue eyes, trying to read them, understand him, but being this close to him nearly makes him stupid. All that matters at the moment is his touch, his hot breathing against his face and the gentle hand that slowly slides down his waist and pulls him even closer.

"You talk way too much," Armie whispers before closing the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a slow and sweet kiss.

After all this time, kissing each other feels like a sip of water in the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hear you all screaming finally XD


	32. A Brand New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, breakdowns and goobyes

Their lips move in synchrony, their tongues dancing around one another, exploring each other´s mouth as if it was their very first kiss. And in some ways, that's exactly how it feels, like this is the beginning of their story, or at least a brand new chapter, which hopefully won´t be as brief as the first.

With Armie´s hand on his body, Timothée feels strangely safe, like all his worries had evaporated and he could breathe again. Armie´s touch was healing, soothing and the medicine Timothée needed to deal with the scars of his past, learn with them and create a new future to himself.

This time though, he would have to be braver, bolder and more honest, with himself and with Armie. And he knew it wouldn't be easy, a part of him was still a scared little boy who was afraid of being abandoned, but he was going to try his best, because he simply couldn't lose Armie. Not again.

Reluctantly, but aware he needs some air, Timothée takes a small step back, his hands holding tightly onto Armie´s biceps. He keeps his eyes closed for a minute more, traces his lips with his tongue and then smiles. Armie´s taste lingers there and the soft touch of his hand against his cheek sends shivers down his spine.

As he gently leans against his palm, Timothée feels a sense of euphoria consuming him. As cliche as it may sound, Timothée feels like he is in a dream and he would hate to wake up.

Opening his eyes, Timothée comes out of his trance, but realizes reality is way better than the dream. Armie is there, flesh and bone, giving him a second chance to make things right. He watches him for a good minute, those blue eyes seeming to stare deep into his soul.

"Please, tell me this means what I think it does," he whispers, his heart beating faster with every word that leaves his lips.

"That depends," Armie´s thumb strokes his cheek, a small but genuine smile on his lips. "What do you think it means?"

"Don´t play games with me, Hammer, not now."

Armie chuckles, pulls him closer and kisses his lips once again, only this time a lot more passionate than the first. It´s a kiss from a man that is hungry, craving more and more of his loved one. Timothée can barely keep himself up, his knees giving in when Armie tangles his fingers on his curls.

"I´m ready to get this back from where we stopped," Armie says through pressed lips, his eyes locked on his. "Are you?"

"That's all I want," he whispers back, tightening his grip on his arms. "Just know you´re gonna have to be very patient with me, because I might be working on my issues, but I'm still the same old Timmy you met two months ago."

"Good, because that´s the Timothée I fell in love with."

Timothée smiles, buries his face in the crook of Armie´s neck and hugs him as tightly as he could possibly manage. He couldn't be happier right now, he faced his fear, went over to Armie and actually talked to him, exposed all his feelings, like he should have done weeks ago.

"I should probably go," Timothée whispers, taking a step back.

"Or you could stay here."

Timothée blinks a couple of times, the offer a surprise to him, although something he genuinely would love.

"I don´t know," he finally answers, scratching the back of his neck. "You and your father probably need some time alone, just the two of you, I don´t wanna be an intruder right now."

"My dad...," Armie shrugs, shaking his head.

"How is he doing?"

"He's devastated," he admits, his hand reaching out for Timothée´s, which he gently strokes. "I have never seen him like this, you know? He barely says anything, just wanders around the house, looking lost and destroyed. He will spend most of the day sitting at the back, staring at my mom's garden."

"I know you´re worried, I would be too in your position, but I think right now he needs some time. He knows you´re here, that you won´t leave his side and that you'd do anything for him, but he needs to learn how to deal with grief his own way."

"I guess you are right."

Timothée smiles, raises his hand and cradles Armie´s face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you?"

"People keep asking me that, but I don't have an answer."

"What you mean?"

"Right now it seems like a part of me has a hole in it, but I can´t quite figure out what exactly that does to me," he looks down for a second, only to sigh and look back at Timothée. "Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No, it's not," he smiles, taking a step closer. "There's no right way to feel, Armie, so you don't have to be ashamed or worried about anything."

Armie nods, leaning his forehead against Timothée´s, his hands holding tight onto his waist.

"So, will you stay?"

"I told Zoe I´d be back at the magazine by Tuesday," he whispers, his lips almost pressed against Armie´s again. "But I guess I can text her and say I need to stay here for one more day."

"Or maybe two."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head. "Or maybe two."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


A fine mist takes over the streets of Scarsdale as the night goes, the quietness of the town now even more prominent. The house is dark, Lee and Taylor secluded in the guest bedroom, while Paul spends another sleepless night locked inside the master bedroom and Armie, well Armie sits on his bed, wide awake and haunted by memories, while Timothée sleeps peacefully by his side.

He tried, he tried his best to relax and with Timothée by his side he felt like he would finally do it, he would lay his head on the pillows and he would get his first night of sleep ever since he got the news, but it was all an illusion. They talked for a while, even managed to laugh a little, but once everything went quiet and Timothée slowly drifted off to sleep, Armie found himself back to the same state he was the previous night.

His mind seemed to run in circles, thoughts hammering away in his brain and keeping him from a moment of peace. He couldn't even close his eyes that he was washed by the image of her, beautiful and always with a smile on her face, but now gone. One week ago they were on the phone, talking and laughing, sharing small details about their day. Armie explaining how his newest job had gone, Victoria making sure he knew she was feeling alright.

Armie cherished those moments more than anything, but right now it felt like he had not given them enough importance. He should have spent more time with her, he should have tried harder to find a way to save her, to prolong her life and...

_ Don't be a selfish little bastard right now. She was in pain, she was suffering and as much as it might hurt you, this was the best for her. _

He closes his eyes for a moment, his hands turning into fists as he inhales a couple of times, trying to keep himself together. As he opens his eyes again, the dark bedroom feels claustrophobic and he can barely breathe, his chest heaving and sweat forming on his forehead.

He pushes himself up, carefully not to wake up Timothée, and drags himself out of the bedroom. He looks around the hallway before walking down the stairs, as weird as he feels, he doesn't want to worry anyone else. He can deal with his problems himself.

He walks to the kitchen, pours himself a glass of water and takes a couple of sips, his blue eyes staring out of the small kitchen window, which overlooks the garden. He can almost hear her laughter now, the soft sound she would unleash whenever she was happy. She was a remarkable woman and Armie wasn't sure he would ever be able to get over her death.

Earlier that night Timothée asked him how he was doing and he said he didn't know, but that was a lie. He knew exactly what he was feeling and that was anger, for not being by her side when it happened, for not being able to change course of life, for not accomplishing everything he wanted her to see. He shakes his head, his grip on the glass intensifying every second until...

"Armie?"

He turns around as soon as he hears the voice, the glass in his hand shattering, which causes sharp pieces of glass to fall down everywhere. He looks at Timothée across the counter, then at the floor and then finally at his hand, which now sports a small cut.

"Fuck," is all he manages to say, but before he can even fully process what is going on, Timothée is already by his side, holding his hand and guiding it under the tap.

"Are you okay?"

"Honestly?," he whispers as Timothée's eyes meet his. "No, I'm not okay."

"Armie...," he can't even finish his sentence, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him. Armie is tired, pale, his eyes have absolutely no sparkle and he seems utterly lost. Timothée never expected to see him like this.

He looks around the kitchen, unaware of where he can find a first aid kit and sighs, feeling powerless and confused.

"The bottom drawer at the cabinet by the fridge," Armie says nonchalantly and for a moment he can see the curiosity in Timothée's eyes. "Maybe I can read your mind."

"Let's hope not," he jokes, trying to put on a smile, although it seems weird to do so at a moment like this. He presses a cloth on top of Armie's cut and gestures to the counter, while he walks over to the cabinets.

Armie sits down on one of the stools, his right hand pressing against the cloth that covers his left, his eyes distant. He needs to get himself together.

"Here, let me fix this."

He stands his hand out to Timothée and watches as he carefully runs a cloth on top of the cut, disinfecting it before he can cover up with a bandage. He bites his lip, the whole thing reminding him of when they were on their road trip and Timothée cut his hand on his bag's zipper. That was the day Timothée told him the whole story about his father.

"I lied to you earlier," he says, causing Timothée to look up at him confused. "I know exactly how I'm feeling, I just don't want to acknowledge it."

"Why not?"

Armie shrugs.

"Armie, you can talk to me."

A minute of silence goes by, Timothée's hand resting on top of Armie's, while their eyes remain locked on one another.

"I thought I was prepared for this, you know? But then I came here last week and I saw how weak she was, how the disease was getting the best of her and that took a toll on me, Tim. I didn't want to accept it, I didn't want to believe that something like this would happen and when it did, I just..."

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath and then goes on.

"It's not fair that we lose her, it's not fair that someone as nice as her dies while there are horrible people walking around freely and happy. How am I supposed to go on without her? How is my dad supposed to live his life without the love of his life by his side? Why is life so fucking unfair?!"

Timothée bites his lip, his heart shattered in a million pieces as he hears the words leave Armie's lips. Armie, always so cheerful, happy and excited, now has all this anger building up inside of him and he knows exactly how it feels. His dad didn't die, but he left and Timothée went through a period of grief too, where he oscillated between anger and sadness almost constantly. That scarred him for life, but he wouldn't let the same happen to Armie.

"No matter what I say right now it will sound like bullshit to you, trust me, I know. But I need you to understand that it´s okay to feel angry, to feel sad and confused right now. No matter how long it took, you'd never be prepared for this, because we're never prepared to lose the ones we love. Your mother was a fighter though and I know she's looking out for you, so whenever you feel like things are not worth it, remember she would like you to at least try."

Armie stares at him for a second, tears forming on his eyes as he nods his head. He feels a pain in his chest, his breathing shortens and he grips tightly onto the counter for support. He's reached his limit, there's no more hiding his feelings, suppressing his tears or anything. He's gone.

As he starts sobbing, he feels Timothée's arms wrap around him, keeping him close. He tugs on his shirt, buries his face in his chest and allows himself to come undone. At least with Timothée he feels safe. He feels alive.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It's nearly eight in the morning and the streets of Scarsdale are just now coming alive, workers leaving their home, kids rushing to schools with exciting smiles and teenagers dragging themselves around the sidewalks, most of them with headphones on. The Sun shines bright and from the balcony, Timothée watches the street below him, although his attention changes from time to time as he is unable to keep himself from checking on Armie, who sleeps peacefully.

It was a tough night for him, he cried in the kitchen for about half an hour, then managed to stop enough to actually talk to Timothée, explaining just how difficult the last three days had been. He wanted to be strong for his father, but while doing so Armie was suppressing his own pain, which could be dangerous. He needed to live through his grief, be angry and disappointed with life, he needed to let out everything he had boiling inside of him or else he could go down a spiral, one Timothée knew very well.

After years of suppressing his feelings, hiding some of his most internal demons, Timothée was trying his best to be more open, talk about the things that scared him. But it wasn't easy, his brain was so used to the whole charade, it was difficult to tell himself not to live that lie any longer. And since he knew exactly how it felt to be in such a situation, Timothée promised himself he wouldn't let the same thing happen with Armie.

He takes another look at the street, takes in the fresh air and walks back inside, closing the doors slowly so as not to wake up Armie. Before he can turn around though, he hears his hoarse and sleepy voice echo in the quiet bedroom and a smile instantly takes over his face. It's as if only now he can truly understand how much he truly missed him.

"Good morning," Armie stares at him from the bed, his face still pressed against the pillow while a small smile appears on the corner of his lips.

"Good morning," Timothée replies while climbing back into bed. He kisses Armie, then slides under the sheets, his hand gently cradling Armie´s face, the tickling of his beard and the warmth of his skin making him smile. "How are you?"

"Feeling a little bit better," he reassures him, his finger reaching up for a curl, which he twists around. "I guess I needed to talk, let it all out."

"I´m starting to realize that talking is actually the best medicine."

"Oh, really?"

Timothée nods, moving closer to Armie.

"We still have a lot to talk about," he admits as Armie nods. "But I know right now is not the time, you are going through a difficult moment and you need to focus on your father and whatever you need to get it done."

"But I like talking to you too," he wraps his arm around Timothée´s waist, his thumb stroking the little bit of skin he finds in between his shirt and his boxers. "Hear your voice soothes me in a way."

"That's nice to hear," he kisses him again, chuckling as Armie pulls him back for another peck straight afterwards. "I´ve done a lot of thinking the past month, Armie. Everything that happened between us actually opened my eyes to a lot of things that were going on in my life, things I needed to work on. I even talked to my mom about her behavior, how it made me feel."

"And?"

"And she's working on it. Well, I guess you could say we´re both working on our relationship. We´re each other's family, we need to make it work."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"But we can talk about that later," he gets up quickly, his hand out to Armie, who looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "C´mon, you need to get some breakfast."

"I think I´m gonna stay here for a little bit longer."

"C´mon, I can´t go downstairs on my own."

"Why not?"

"Your father has no idea I am here, do you really think it's a good thing for us to simply bump into each other in the kitchen?," Armie opens his mouth to say something, but Timothée is faster. "Besides, Taylor definitely won't be pleased to see me here, so I´d appreciate if the owner of the house was around when he tries to kick me out."

"He won't try to kick you out."

"Probably not, but he will give me a death glare."

Armie chuckles and sits up, nodding his head.

"He's not that bad, you know? He's just a bit overprotective."

"Yeah, I can spot one from miles away," he says with a bit of a mocking tone. "And I don't blame him for not being my biggest fan. I screwed up with you, he is one of your best friends, of course he's gonna hate me."

"He doesn't hate you, he barely knows you."

"And maybe with time we can change that around."

"I'll talk to him and..."

"Please don´t," he sits on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Armie´s shoulder. "He has all the right to be mad. Besides, I doubt he will do or say anything to disrespect me when he sees we´re back together. He wants what's best for you, he wouldn't hurt you by hurting me."

"You sure of that? Because I can talk to him."

"There's no need for that, trust me."

Armie nods, a hand sliding down Timothée´s waist and pulling him closer, their lips pressed together seconds after.

"Breakfast?," he whispers while pulling away, his eyes locked on Timothée´s.

"Breakfast."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"....you say that because you haven't met him yet. Chris is the type of person that doesn't know what middle ground is, he's either all fun and games, or he's brutally honest."

"Okay, maybe you are right, but if I understand correctly, is that brutal honesty of his that got you to come and talk to me. Or did I get things wrong?"

"Nope, you're right. Since day one Chris encouraged me to come clean and talk to you, express my feelings instead of simply hiding away. His brutal honesty, paired with the pain of hurting you was what prompted me to start some change in my life."

"In that case, I can't wait to finally meet him."

"Oh, I bet he can't wait for that day either. He has a bit of a crush on you actually."

"What?"

"I'm serious, he even made me promise that I would set you two up if nothing happened between us during the road trip."

Armie frowns and leans forward, elbows on the counter. "Is that what you were going to tell me during the trip? Because I remember you stopping yourself mid sentence one day, and I am pretty sure we were talking about Chris."

"Crap, you have a good memory."

"I really do."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head.

"But yeah, that's what I was...," he trails off as he hears footsteps and turns to the side, his eyes falling on Paul, who stands just a couple of feet away from them, still in his pajamas. Timothée's eyes wander to Armie for a second, then he clears up his throat and puts on a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Hammer."

"Good morning," Paul says, although his voice comes almost in a whisper. He takes a few steps into the kitchen, eyes falling on Armie. "I didn't know we had visitors."

"Sorry, I should have told you," Armie gets up, a little smile on his face as he gestures towards Timothée. "Dad, this is Timothée."

"Timothée? As in the Timothée?"

Armie chuckles, but nods his head slowly.

"Well, look at that," Paul walks closer to them, standing his hand out to shake Timothée's. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, young man."

"Wow, didn't expect to hear that."

"Didn't you?," he says with a knowing look on his face, which leaves Armie slightly confused. He winks, leans against the counter and turns to Armie. "I'm guessing you two managed to talk things out?"

Armie exchanges a little smile with Timothée before nodding.

"I'm really happy for both of you."

"Thank you, dad."

Paul shrugs, patting Armie's shoulder. "Where are the boys?"

"I don't know, I checked their bedroom but they are nowhere to be seen. I'm guessing they went out for a walk or something."

"They leave today?"

"Yes, they do."

"What about you Timothée?"

"He's staying with us for a few days," Armie blurts out. "If you don't mind, of course."

"Actually, I'm staying until tomorrow afternoon. I need to get back to work by Wednesday."

"Stay as much as you'd like, because honestly, I don't think I could handle staying in this house right now if it was always quiet."

"Dad..."

"It's okay," he reassures Armie with a smile. "Anyway, I'm gonna go get some coffee and head back to my bedroom."

"What? No, stay here with us."

"Son, you just got back together, you guys deserve some time on your own. I'll have my coffee, take a shower and then maybe I can cook us lunch."

"Are you sure about that?"

Paul nods. "I think it's exactly what I need to get my mind off of everything."

"Okay. We are gonna be here, so if you want help you can call us. Although Timothée is not known for his skills in the kitchen."

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong?"

Timothée stares at him for a moment, but then sighs, rolling his eyes.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"...and I always wanted to go to Yale, but we didn't have much money and I have to admit, my grades were not exactly the best. Columbia was closer, the money we had saved was a start and I got myself a scholarship."

Paul sits across from Timothée on the kitchen table, a gentle smile on his lips as he nods his head. He reaches out for him, taking his hands in his and squeezes them slightly.

"I just met you, Timothée, but I can tell you're a fighter."

"Life has thrown some shit at me, Mr. Hammer, and I had to learn how to deal with it."

"I've lived enough to know life isn't as easy as some people make it out to be, but these tough moments are what make the happy ones more special."

Timothée smiles, feeling all warm inside as he hears Paul's words. Much like Armie, Paul has a kindness in his eyes and a sweet way of talking, one that can soothe you. He feels glad to be among them, to feel welcomed and cared, even when they are facing such a complicated period of their lives.

"Okay," Armie's voice echoes in the kitchen as he walks over to them, placing a large plate with chicken down on the table. "Mr. Hammer's famous crisp chicken breasts with lemon sauce is ready."

"Wow," Timothée stares at the dish with wide eyes, a large smile forming on his lips. "This looks absolutely delicious and I can't believe you guys just made this."

"Armie did most of the work today."

"I just followed your instructions, dad."

"He's so humble," Paul says while holding onto Armie's arms.

"He can be."

Armie chuckles, turns on his heels and walks back to the stove, taking a pan and moving it to the table. He opens it, the smell taking over the entire room.

"Is rice supposed to smell this much? Because if so, then I've been doing it wrong."

"We have a special technique," he jokes. "Maybe once you're more acquainted with the family we will tell you."

"I look forward to that day."

"Hello," the voice echoes through the house, footsteps stomping as the boys make their way down the corridor and stop by the kitchen door.

Lee smiles over at everyone, quite pleased to see Timothée and Paul sitting at the table together. Taylor on the other hand, watches the scene with furrowed eyebrows, not really sure of what to do.

"Boys, we were starting to think you had left without saying goodbye."

"We went out for a walk, stopped by the mall for a while and when we realized it was almost lunch time."

"Well, you're here now, so sit down with us."

Lee nods and rushes over to wash his hands before taking a seat beside Paul, reaching for a plate for himself. Taylor sighs, washes his hand and then grabs a plate, taking a seat on the edge of the table, right beside Timothée.

"So, I'm guessing you two talked things out?"

"Taylor," Lee shoots him a look, trying to keep him from saying anything stupid.

"What?"

"Don't say anything stupid, please."

"I made a simple question, Lee, I don't know why you're so pressed about it."

"Guys, please don't do this."

Armie sighs, leans against the table and stares into Taylor's eyes. "Yes, Taylor, Timothée and I talked things through and we're back together."

"I hope things turn out better this time."

"Thank you," Timothée says, a little smile on his face as he feels Armie's hand squeezing his thigh under the table. "I know I might be asking for much, Taylor, but I hope one day we can be friends."

Taylor swallows, his eyes wandering to Lee, then Armie and finally Timothée. "I hope so too. I admit, I don't exactly trust you, but I know how much you mean to Armie, so I'll do my best to make sure we can have a friendly relationship at one point."

"I hope we can make that work," he reaches his hand out, waiting almost an entire minute to have Taylor reach back to him. "And thank you for giving us the opportunity to get to know each other better."

"Armie means a lot to me and I know this is important to him."

Armie smiles, glancing over at Lee for a brief second. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Oh just shut up and let's eat."

"I agree with him," Paul says. "I'm starving."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie can hear Timothée's voice down the stairs, his breathy laugh echoing as he sits down with Paul in the living room. Much to Armie's despair, Paul found some of his old photo albums and was more than ready to share with Timothée all the embarrassing photos of him as a kid.

He can't help but smile though, feeling a lit lighter today than he felt the last couple of days. Having Timothée around seemed to light up the mood, not only his but also his father's. He looks down at his bandaged hand, his thumb gently caressing the wound.

He shakes his head, walks down the hallway and slowly pushes the door to the guest bedroom open, watching from the threshold as Lee and Taylor finish packing their bags. They had been with him for the past five days, helping him with basically everything, so it feels a bit bittersweet to watch them leave, although he knows they need to get back into their lives.

"Hey," Lee says when he finally notices Armie standing there.

"Hey, you guys all packed?"

"Yep," Taylor nods. "We called a car, which will take us to the bus station."

"I'm sorry we didn't think things through. You should have brought your car too, but at the time I..."

"Dude, a bus back to Brooklyn is not gonna kill us. This is the last thing you need to worry about, alright?"

Armie nods and walks in, closing the door behind him. He stands by the bed, hands in his pockets as he looks from Lee to Taylor.

"I wanted to thank you guys for everything you did for me and my dad the last couple of days. I wouldn't be able to go through all of this without you two, so thank you."

"There's no need for that, Armie. Taylor and I are your friends, we're here for whatever you need."

"Lee is right. And you can call us if you need anything, we'll do our best to get it done."

"I know," Armie smiles, patting Taylor's back. "I also wanted to thank you Taylor."

"For what?"

"For giving Timothée a chance."

Taylor stares at him for a moment, then shrugs. "I don't trust him completely, I'm not gonna lie to you, but I also don't know him as well as you do. And you care about him, in ways I never seen you do before, so the least I can do is give him a chance to prove himself."

"Armie," Lee calls out, catching his attention. "If he makes you happy, then there's nothing else we can ask for."

"He does," he smiles while nodding. "Having him around the last couple of hours has already made me feel a lot better."

"That's truly all that matters."

Taylor pulls him to a quick hug, then cradles his face in his hand, smiling over at him. "Don't forget to call if you need anything."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"We know you will," Lee says. "But still, remember we are here to help."

"It's impossible to forget about you guys," he says just as a car honks down stairs. They walk over to the window, watching as Timothée and Paul appear on the porch. "I guess it's time to go."

"We'll see you on Friday?"

"See you on Friday."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The night of Scarsdale is quiet, not many cars passing by and even fewer people. The lights on most houses are already being turned off, but one of them remains with all its lights on. Sitting on the couch by the porch, bodies pressed together and mugs of steaming hot tea on their hands, Armie and Timothée keep themselves quiet.

It feels good to be in each other's arms, enjoying their warmth and hearing the soft sound of each other's breathing. Timothée blows on the tea, watching the steam dissipate in the air, before he can take a sip of it. He feels Armie's fingers gently tracing his arm and looks up, a smile plastered on his lips.

Armie winks and leans down to place a quick kiss on his lips, feeling the faint taste of the tea still lingering there. He chuckles at the look on Timothée's face, pinches his cheek and then embraces him once again, nuzzling his curls.

"How are you?," Timothée asks, his voice echoing in the night.

"Me? I'm doing better than yesterday, that's for sure."

"It's a start," Timothée says while moving slightly on the couch, so he can look Armie in the eye. "Grief is complicated Armie, we all deal with it in different ways and it can be longer or shorter. Either way, it's important you go through it in a healthy way."

"I know, but I'm still learning how to deal with it," he shrugs. "I think if it was just me it would be easier, but I worry too much about my dad and that ends up making things even harder. I don't want to see him suffer, Timmy."

"He will suffer just as much as you will, Armie, there's nothing you can do about it."

"It's still sad to see how closed up he is, even though your presence here today did seem to cheer him up."

"I'm a very loving person, that rubs off on people."

"Sure," Armie mocks as Timothée sticks his tongue out. He chuckles, then grows serious for a moment, arching an eyebrow.

"What?"

"This morning, when you said you didn't expect my dad to welcome you that way, he questioned that and seemed to use a tone that insinuated you would understand why. What was that all about?"

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Yes, I did. Care to explain what the hell was going on?"

Timothée smiles. "Your parents sent me an email, thanking me for the profile."

"I'm sorry?"

He nods. "They wrote this huge ass email, thanking me for the way I talked about you, for showing people just how wonderful you were. They didn't talk about us and our relationship, but it made it very clear that they were not angry at me, which in some ways did encourage me to go and try to talk to you."

"I can't believe they did that," Armie mumbles. "I did see the magazine laying around, but my dad didn't say anything."

"I doubt your father even thought about that until he saw me this morning, Armie."

"Would you show me the email?"

Timothée nods, a smile as he cradles Armie's face. "I'm sure there is nothing you haven't heard before, but sure, I'll show you."

"Thank you," he says before kissing him once again. "Now, what do you say we get back inside? Is getting cold here."

"Wanna watch a movie? Distract your mind a little bit?"

Armie nods as he gets up and stands his hand out for Timothée. "Sure, it might be a good idea."


	33. Your Soul Is A Mix Of Chaos And Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyfriends

The bedroom is mostly dark, just a couple of rays of sunshine coming in through the closed curtains. Faint moans echo, while in bed Timothée wraps his legs around Armie´s waist, his head tilted back and his hands sliding down his naked back. His soft and warm touch sends shivers down his spine, his beard tickles and burns his skin, but he relishes the feeling.

He sinks his nails onto Armie´s shoulder, moans softly when he grabs onto his air and smiles before their lips connect once more. He kisses him hungrily, like a man who has just found water in the desert. Armie is his water, his oasis and his anchor, the one person who seems to make everything better and easier to deal with.

He pulls away breathless, his chest heaving as his fingers trace down Armie´s chest until the waistband of his boxers. He hooks his fingers there, bites on his lips and lets his eyes wander down Armie´s body for a second. He knew sex was probably the last thing on Armie´s mind at the moment, but as he notices even after minutes of making out nothing has happened, Timothée has his confirmation. And he understands Armie, but he can´t deny he would do anything to have him right now.

He smiles as Armie raises his chin, their eyes fixed on one another´s, doing all the talking their lips can´t seem to do. Armie cocks an eyebrow and Timothée simply nods, pulling him down for a brief and soft kiss. He watches as Armie rolls back to the bed, eyes to the ceiling as he wraps an arm around his body and pulls him as closer as possible, their bodies pressed against one another.

"I´m sorry," Armie practically whispers, his eyes falling down to Timothée.

"There's no need for that, Armie," Timothée whispers back, aware Armie can feel his boner pressed against his hip. "I'm not gonna hold this against you or anything."

"I wanted, I really did, but..."

"I would love to have sex with you right now, but I don´t need that to make me happy or anything. I know you have a lot in your mind right now, your father is your priority and I'm okay with that."

Armie sighs, turning his gaze back to the ceiling. Timothée watches him for a moment, then reaches for his chin, turning him towards him once again.

"Armie, this is not that important."

"Are you sure?"

"We have a lifetime ahead of us, I'm sure we´ll make it up for it in the near future."

Armie nods, tucking a few curls behind his ear. "I´m sorry I´m not the best boyfriend material right now."

Timothée feels his cheeks flush and butterflies fill his stomach at the mention of the word boyfriend. Is the first time they have acknowledged their new relationship status, and while in complete bliss to be back in Armie´s arms, the term still makes him feel slightly weird.

"What?"

"Is the first time you use that word to describe us."

"You mean boyfriend?," Timothée nods and Armie smiles. "That's what we are, right?"

"Yes, it's just...," Timothée shrugs. "I´m just not used to it, that's all."

"Well, boyfriend, you might as well get used to it."

"I think I can work on it."

"Good."

Timothée smiles, leaning his head against Armie´s chest, his eyes closing as he feels his hand gently stroke his hair. "I´m happy just to be with you, okay? Everything else is just a bonus, we don't have to rush with anything, just take your time and live through this period of your life the best way you can. I´ll be here for you no matter what happens."

"Thank you."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"...and this is a little store my mom fell in love with right from the first time she saw it. I think she would come here at least once a week."

"Did you get to live here with them?"

"No, when they moved here I was about to leave college. My dad had already passed my grandma's house to my name, so I went straight to Brooklyn."

"It's nice here," Timothée says while sliding an arm across Armie's waist, his body pressed against his. "A little bit quiet, but still nice."

"We're used to Manhattan and Brooklyn, we would never be able to spend more than two weeks here."

"You parents traveled the world before settling here, so I think it's a matter of getting used to."

"My parents were tired of all the chaos of big cities, they wanted to slow down and have some peace. The way I see it, your peace is a lot more energetic than life in Scarsdale."

Timothée shrugs. "Maybe you're right."

"Oh," Armie chuckles, pointing over to a small building down the road. "There is the tavern where I drank my whole body weight in alcohol after we... after everything happened."

Timothée looks up at Armie, a cheeky grin on his face. He leans in, kisses his cheek and then shakes his head.

"I'm glad we both dealt with our separation in similar ways. You know, I also drank my whole weight in alcohol and made a fool of myself."

"You did?"

"Well, I was the annoying, angry type of drunk actually. Poor Zoe couldn't deal with me herself and had to call Chris to help."

"Why wasn't he involved in the drink fest in the first place?"

"I had an argument with him right after we got back, he was his honest self and I wasn't ready to listen to all of that just yet. I think the reason why I was such an ass that night was also because I was mad at him, mostly for being right."

"Sometimes we don't wanna hear the truth."

"Exactly," he shrugs and then takes Armie's hand, leading him to a bench nearby. "But you didn't tell me what kind of drunk you were."

"Apparently I was the singing type."

"Excuse me?"

"Yep, there was karaoke involved and everything."

"Okay, I see how it is."

"What?," Armie asks between chuckles.

"I had to nearly drag you to a karaoke bar, but once we break up you go singing with other guys? I'm gonna rethink this whole thing."

Armie frowns and moves his body on the bench, so he can be face to face with Timothée. "How do you know there was another guy?"

Timothée bites his lip, crunching his nose as Armie stares at him, waiting for an answer.

"I may have stalked your Instagram that weekend."

"I'm sorry?"

He shrugs. "I had nothing else to do, alright? Don't judge me."

"Oh, I'm judging you."

"You saying you didn't go through my Instagram not even once while we were apart?"

"Well, to be completely honest, I was trying to keep everything related to you away from me," he admits as Timothée nods, swallowing hard. "Hey, please don't make that face."

"It's just...," he sighs. "Everything is so nice between us the last two days, I sometimes forget that until Monday afternoon you were mad at me."

"I was no longer mad, I was just trying to forget you."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"It will make you feel better if I say it was not working? Because it wasn't. This past month, the only time I managed to forget about you for a few seconds was when I got the news about my mom and during her funeral."

"I'm really sorry for what I put you through, Armie. I was an ass for acting that way, and an even bigger ass for thinking ghosting you would be the best way to deal with things. But I was scared shitless of what I was feeling, I'm still a little bit scared."

"Why so scared?"

"Because I never felt this way before, Armie. You're the first person I truly fell in love with and sometimes I don't know how to handle all these feelings inside of me. So remember, you gonna have to be very patient with me."

"I've already told you this, but I'll say it again. I'm in love with you and that means every single part of you, including the ones that are difficult or that you don't particularly like."

"Even the chaotic side?"

"Even the chaotic side."

"You know, it would be a lot less complicated if you'd just show me your chaotic side, that way I wouldn't feel like the odd one out."

"Oh, I don't have one," he says as Timothée shoots him a look, making him laugh. He wraps his arms around his waist, pulls him closer and pecks his lips. "Trust me, you'll have time to get to know that side too."

"Oh, I can't wait."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"You are not doing that right," Armie chuckles, leaning against the sink as he watches Timothée by the stove, stirring the sauce in a large pan.

"Of course I am."

"Trust me, you keep doing this, this sauce will never get thick."

"I think I know a thing or two about thick."

"Oh, for fuck's same, Timmy."

"What? I do."

"Just shut up, will ya?"

"Why don't you make me?," he says with a teasing smile.

He bites his lip, his eyes wandering down to Armie's lips as he takes a step closer, his large hand sliding down his waist and pulling him closer. He lets go of the spoon, sauce spilling on the stove as he tilts his head to the side, smiling mischievously as Armie's lips trace his neck and then his jaw, before finally finding his lips.

He slides his hand up Armie's chest, holds tight onto his shoulder and deepens the kiss, his tongue invading Armie's mouth. He moans softly, Armie's hand squeezing his waist as they move along the kitchen, bodies pressed together. He grunts once his back hits the counter, but chuckles as Armie holds onto his waist and places him on top.

With his legs tightly wrapped around Armie, Timothée slides his hands inside his hair and then down his face, feeling the beard tickling his smooth skin. He bites on his bottom lip, pulls on it and smiles up at him. They hear footsteps approaching and Armie takes a step away, looking over at the living room.

"Dad?"

"Don't worry about me, boys. I'll be going for a walk, you can go back to whatever you were doing."

"We were actually just finishing lunch," Timothée explains as Paul shoots him a look. "I mean, we were..."

"Lunch is nearly done, dad," Armie intervenes, although there's a little knowing smile on his lips.

"I won't take long, don't worry."

Armie simply nods, watching as his father walks out of the house. His expression changes slowly though, the carefree look he once had now being replaced by a serious and worried one.

"What's wrong?," Timothée asks while reaching for his chin, turning his face back to him.

"He's going to the cemetery."

"And you think that will be a problem?"

Armie shrugs, a hand resting on the counter as he leans his forehead against Timothée's shoulder.

"I honestly don't know," he whispers. "He won't talk much and I keep worrying about him."

"I've told you Armie, you have to let him grief in his own way."

"I know, but I can't help but worry," he stands straight again, his blue eyes sad. "Grief can be dangerous, it can leave scars for the rest of our lives. You know that better than anyone."

Timothée sighs, not entirely sure he has words to use at the moment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you're right," he smiles while cradling Armie's face, his thumb stroking his cheek. "But my grief was for someone who didn't pass, it was for someone who chose to leave. My grief wasn't just grief, my grief came with a heavy dose of anger and resentment."

"I still can't believe he simply walked away and never looked back."

"Turns out I wasn't as important as he made it seem like it."

"He has no idea of what he is missing," Armie smiles, places a gentle kiss on Timothée's lips, but pulls away as soon as they start to smell something burning. Confused, he looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he sees the pan of sauce is still on the stove. "Oh fuck."

"Can't say it´s not thick enough now, can you?"

Armie chuckles and helps him out of the counter, rushing over to the stove straight afterwards. "Guess we'll have to start it all over again."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie stands by the bedroom door, arms crossed as he watches Timothée zip up his backpack and swing it over his shoulder. They lock eyes and Timothée smiles, walking over to him with open arms. Armie chuckles, tightly wrapping his arms around him, his nose buried on the mess of curls.

As they pull apart, Armie slides his hand down Timothée's body, holding tight onto his waist and keeping his body close to his. He leans forward, capturing him in a sweet kiss, their lips moving together slowly as if to savor every single second of it.

"Do you really have to go?"

"You have no idea how much I'd like to stay here a little bit longer, but I haven't been the most prolific writer the past few months and I can't let Zoe down."

"Don't worry," Armie assures him with a smile. "I know you have your responsibilities and I don't want you to jeopardize your work because of me."

"We'll see each other on Sunday, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be back home Sunday."

"Maybe you could go to my place? I could cook dinner and we'll have the night to ourselves."

"Sounds like a great plan."

"Okay, it's settled then. Sunday night, you'll get a tour of the house."

As he says the words, Timothée frowns, looking at Armie slightly amused.

"Is it weird that we're dating and yet you haven't even been to my place?"

"A little bit, but you've only been to my house once."

"We're so very unique," he mocks as Armie laughs, squeezing his waist. "I should go now, I don't be on the road late at night."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

"Call me if you need anything, okay? And I mean everything, whether I can help it or not, I want to be aware of what's happening to you."

"Don't worry about me."

"You're asking me something I might not be able to deliver."

"Then don't worry much."

"That's better," he winks before hugging Armie once again, closing his eyes as he hears his heartbeat. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he replies before taking Timothée's hand in his, leading him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. As they reach downstairs, Paul stands up immediately, walking over to them with a timid smile.

"You're leaving?"

Timothée nods. "I need to go back to reality, Mr. Hammer. There's a lot of work waiting for me at the magazine, I can't stay away for longer."

"That's too bad, because I liked having you around."

"I really enjoyed the time I spent here. You are one of the kindest people I've ever met and I'll never forget just how wonderfully you welcomed me into your home."

"You're welcomed to come here whenever you want, okay?," as Timothée smiles, Paul pulls him closer to a hug. "My son made the right choice choosing you, Timothée."

"Thank you," he whispers back to Paul, a wide smile on his face. "I'm here for whatever you need, both of you."

"Thank you."

Timothée smiles, lets out a sigh and turns back to Armie, sliding his arm around his waist and pulling him closer, kissing him softly.

"I really need to go, I don't like driving at night."

Armie nods. "Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll walk you out," Armie smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him out of the house. As they stop by Timothée's car, Armie leans against it, biting his lip as he watches Timothée throw his bag inside. "I wanted to thank you for coming here, Tim. You made this period of my life a lot easier to deal with, you made me smile when I thought I couldn't. Thank you."

"I couldn't let you go through this not knowing that I was here for you, Armie. Even if nothing happened between us, even if I left the same way I came, I needed to see you and let you know I was here if you ever thought I was worth your time."

"You are worth it, please, don't ever think otherwise."

Timothée nods and hugs him, clinging onto his shirt for a good minute as he takes a deep breath.

"I am not usually that soft, okay?"

"Oh, I'm aware," he chuckles as Timothée punches his chest, shaking his head. "Go, you don't like driving at night."

"Call me."

"Call me."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée exits the bathroom only on his boxers, a towel thrown around his neck to try and contain the water that drips down his still damp hair. He stands in front of his makeshift closet, going through the racks until he finds a large plaid shirt. He cocks an eyebrow, taking a moment to realize the shirt actually belongs to Armie and it got messed up during their road trip.

His mother was the one to find almost a month ago, washed and placed it along with his clothes. He had spent so much time trying to erase the memory of the shirt, that for a brief moment he actually managed to do. He smiles as he reaches for it and puts it on, buttoning half of it before drying his hair and jumping in bed.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, quickly answers a couple of messages and then scrolls through his contact list until he finds Armie's name. He chuckles as he stares at it, the contact remains as Instagram Photographer until this day, a reminder of the days Timothée wanted nothing to do with Armie, not even meet him.

Ironically, the universe had worked its magic and now Timothée was counting the minutes until he was in his arms again. He clicks on the name, leans back against the pillows and waits, a smile swiftly forming on his lips as he sees Armie's face show up on the tiny screen.

"Hey," he says with a smile.

"Hi," Timothée replies, biting his lip as he notices Armie is shirtless.

"You just got...," Armie trails off mid question, arching an eyebrow as he leans closer to the screen. "Is that my shirt? Because I've been looking for it for nearly a month."

"I'm afraid so," he shrugs. "We must have mixed it at some point during the road trip, so I ended up bringing your shirt home. It´s the first time I use it though, I didn't have the courage to do it before."

"You didn't have the courage?"

"I was trying to move on, Armie. Using your shirt wasn't going to help me, so I just pretended it wasn't here. But today, it feels like the right thing to do."

"Well, at least my shirt is going to bed with you today."

"Are you jealous of your own shirt?"

"I sadly am."

Timothée chuckles, sliding down further on the bed, a sweet smile on his lips. "How things going over there?"

"Pretty much the same. Dad locked himself in his bedroom quickly after you left, I cleaned the house a bit and now I'm lying in bed, slightly bored."

"Bored? Well, that's everything you want to hear from your boyfriend as you are talking to him."

"I didn't mean it that way," Armie shoots him a look, although there's a sly smile on his lips. "But I was quite bored until you called, there's nothing to watch and no one to talk to."

"I really wish I could have stayed and helped you more, but I have to get back to work."

"Hey, I know you couldn't stay here."

"Yeah, but I..."

"Relax, I'm handling everything, there's no need to worry."

"You sure?," as Armie nods, Timothée sighs, trying to relax a bit more. "I promise I'll make it all worth it when you come back on Sunday."

"And how you plan on doing that?"

"Oh, I have so many ideas," Timothée smirks. "Do you wanna hear them all?"

"Please."

"Well, I'll start by cooking you dinner. Then maybe make you a massage to make sure you relax..."

"I like that idea," Armie interferes, making Timothée chuckle. "Go on."

"Let me see, maybe we could watch a nice movie, lie down in my bed and..."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie stands by the stove, his eyes locked on the garden outside while he gently moves the frying pan, making sure the pancakes don´t stick to it. He looks down, tosses the pancake over to a plate and then grabs some bacon, tossing it inside the pan. He looks over his shoulder as he hears footsteps and smiles as Paul steps inside the kitchen, a rather tired look upon his face.

"Good morning," he practically mumbles, taking a seat on one of the stools.

"Are you okay, dad?"

"Yeah, simply didn´t get much sleep last night."

"Why didn´t you tell me?"

"What were you gonna do about it, Armie?"

"I could make you some tea or warm milk," he replies with a shrug.

Paul smiles, leaning his elbows against the counter. "You´re already doing way more than you should be doing, Armie."

"You´ve been taking care of me for twenty nine years, dad, I can handle a couple of days."

"I know you can," he sighs. "But I also know you´re going through the same amount of stress and grief that I am, so it´s not fair that on top of all that, you get all the housework to yourself."

"Seriously, don´t worry about it."

"I´ve told you a million times before that not worrying about you is not something I can do. You´re my son, and no matter how bad I am feeling with myself or with the world around me, I will always worry about you. I think and worry about you even when I´m not exactly thinking about you."

Armie smiles, feeling a couple of tears form in his eyes. He turns off the stove, places the bacon on a separate plate and takes it to the counter along with the pancakes. He sets them down, reaches for Paul´s hands and kisses them, feeling a tear roll down his cheek.

"I love you, dad. And I know right now no matter how much love you get, it won´t feel enough to fill the hole you have inside your heart, but I love you more than anything in this world."

"Right back at ya, kiddo. Right back at ya."

"We´re gonna make it through this."

"I know we will," he smiles, pulling Armie closer and kissing his forehead. "Luckily for us, we have incredible people around us, people who love us and are willing to help."

"We really are lucky."

Paul nods, kisses his forehead once more and then sighs, wiping away the tears that insisted in falling down his cheek. He takes a mug, fills it up coffee and then grabs a few pancakes, adding it to his plate along with some bacon.

"How about Timothée? Have you talked to him?"

"He called me last night, we ended up talking for almost two hours, my hand was already hurting."

"I don´t need that much information, son."

"From holding the phone, dad," Armie replies while rolling his eyes. "Anyway, he texted me a couple of minutes ago, he's heading to work."

"He´s a good boy, Armie. Take care of him."

"You don´t even have to ask me that."

"Good, because I know he will also take care of you."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Timothée leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on it as he patiently waits for his coffee. He takes a quick look around the coffee shop, watching as people walk in and out, heavy and dark coats becoming the new normal in the city. He hears his name being called and turns around, smiling politely at the barista who hands him two large cups of coffee.

He nods at her and then turns on his heels, quickly heading off of the shop. He stops by the door, takes in a deep breath and then walks down the street, his eyes wandering through the area, always observant of the people around him.

"Hey, Chalamet!"

He frowns, stopping in place before he looks over his shoulder. He waits until Chris catches up with him, instantly stealing one of the cups from him and taking a few sips of it.

"Hey!," he complains, taking the cup back from him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I texted you many times yesterday, but since you didn´t bother answering me, I thought the best way to talk to you was to hijack you in your way to work."

"And drink my coffee."

"And drink your coffee," he says with a wink as Timothée rolls his eyes. "Seriously, why you didn´t answer me?"

"I did answer you."

"Yeah, a very vague I´m back home text, that means shit to me."

"What exactly you wanted me to say?"

"You know exactly what I wanted you to say, so why don´t you just go straight to the point and save us from wasting any more time?"

Timothée stares at him for a moment, then scrunches his nose and takes on walking, laughing as Chris calls out for him.

"C´mon, Chalamet, just say it."

"I don´t know what you want me to say it, so I can´t really..."

"Gosh, you´re so fucking annoying."

"So I´ve been told," he shrugs and nods towards the doorman as he steps inside the building and goes straight to the elevators, Chris following him close by.

They remain silent the whole way up, Chris with a huge pout upon his lips and his arms crossed, looking like a seven year old kid who hasn´t got the present it was promised. Timothée steals a few glances at him, chuckling at his expression, but stops as soon as Chris looks back, an annoyed look in his face.

The doors open and before Timothée can even think of stepping out, Zoe is already standing between the open doors, sporting a couple of braids in her hair. She sticks her hand out, smiles as he handles her one of the cups and then takes a step back, blowing a kiss in Chris´s direction.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to my most popular writer," she replies while nudging Chris as they follow Timothée around the office. "So, did you get to enjoy your days off?"

"Oh, he won´t say shit."

"What?"

"I caught up with him at the coffee shop and have been trying to get something out of him ever since, but he won´t say shit."

"That's just mean, Chalamet."

Timothée stops and takes a seat, his feet instantly resting on top of his desk while he takes a few sips of his coffee, his eyes locked on his friends, who stand just a feet away from him, curiosity clear in their eyes.

"You guys are way too curious."

"Cut the bullshit, Chalamet."

"What you guys think it happened? I wouldn't have stayed there longer than expected if things had gone down hill, would I?"

"Are you trying to say what I think you´re trying to say?," Zoe asks with a smile.

"I´m trying to say that Armie and I are a couple. Like, officially dating and all that boyfriend and boyfriend crap."

"And you´re not freaking out?," Chris asks with a cocked eyebrow.

"I´m shitting myself," he admits. "But I either face the fear or give up on him and, in all honesty, I am not gonna do that ever again."

Chris smiles, looking over at Zoe for a moment before they both kneel down on the floor, hugging Timothée.

"Oh shit, what the fuck is this?"

"I´m so proud of you, my friend."

"We both are, Tim."

"See, going there was the right thing to do."

"It was," Chris admits. "And how is him, by the way?"

"He´s sad and angry, trying to understand his own grief, but also trying his best to stay strong for his father."

"I sent him a bouquet in the name of the magazine, saying how we´re all very sorry for what happened."

"I think he'll appreciate that."

"Jesus, I can´t believe you're dating."

"Sometimes neither can I."

"And not only that, he is a super hot boyfriend."

"I have a good taste in man," he says as Chris smirks, causing him to roll his eyes. "Oh fuck off."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Now seriously, fuck off, because I have work to do."

"You know what, he is absolutely right. He needs to work and so do I, so you can kindly fuck off, Chris."

"Wow, you two are definitely getting the best friend award this year."

"You know we love you."

"Yeah, you´re making it very clear."

Timothée chuckles, blowing him a kiss before he turns around on the chair and turns on his computer, taking a few sips of his coffee. He sighs, a smile forming on his lips as he stops to think about his life. Is incredible how fast things can change. But most importantly, he has learnt how easy it is to find happiness when you allow yourself to be open to others.


	34. Jack and Rosw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A relationship in development

Timothée kneels down, placing the bowl of water on the floor, a wide smile on his face as Archie runs over to him, licking and sniffing him a couple of times before turning his complete attention to the water. He pats his head, pushes himself up and sighs, taking a quick look around the house.

It's been almost a week since Armie left and while Scarlett had stopped by to check on Archie, the house itself had been neglected and Timothée knew Armie had way too much in his head already to worry about house cleaning once he was back. He bites his lip, his eyes wandering around the house, trying to locate anything he might need. He walks past the kitchen, opens a door at the back and smiles as he sees all the cleaning material there.

He grabs a cloth and alcohol, turns on his heels and heads over to the living room. He goes through some of Armie´s discs, chooses one he might like and places it on the turntable and turns on the volume, bobbing his head to the beat of the song. He starts by the living room, dusting off the table, the sofa, the bookcases and carefully cleaning every single poster Armie has hanging on the walls.

He makes it to the kitchen afterwards, taking extra time to clean the food cabinets and the fridge, only to move over to the bedroom afterwards. He still wonders how the hell someone can live in a house that barely has any walls, so open and exposed to everyone else who might walk in. But even if he can´t fully understand why Armie would choose a house like that, he has to admit the place looks absolutely stunning.

Once he is done cleaning, Timothée changes the record, playing something a little more upbeat. He stands in the middle of the living, dancing around and bobbing his head to the beat, chuckling as Archie runs over and stands by his feet, looking up at him as if he is insane. He looks up, bites his lip and then heads over upstairs, the only place he decided not to touch. That´s Armie´s workplace and he would rather not be the reason why anything was ruined.

As he stops by the last step of the stairs, Timothée´s eyes immediately fall upon a stack of photos that lie on a small table at the far corner of the studio. He walks over to it, finding a few photos taken while they were on the road trip, which instantly floods him with memories. He takes a seat on the leather couch, carefully pushing some equipment to the side to give himself more room, his eyes still focused on the stack of photos he has in his hands.

He goes through some of them, able to perfectly recall everything that led up to the photos or even how certain people featured on it simply poured their entire life story to Armie, as if he was their friends for ages. He stops as a photo of Scarlett comes to view, her pale skin in full display as she sits on the very same couch he is sitting at the moment, a seductive smile on her face as she shows the camera her tattooed back.

Timothée bites his lip, aware he shouldn´t put much thought into any of this, but still unable to look at it and not think of all the times her and Armie had slept together throughout the years. Not only that, Armie clearly cared and trusted her if he had called her to take care of his dog, gave her the key to his house and all.  _ They know each other for years _ , he thinks to himself, trying to push back the jealousy that desperately wants to consume him.  _ He´s with you now and he has been nothing but honest about his relationship with her, you don´t have to worry. There´s nothing to worry about. _

He sighs, moves to the next photo and frowns, noticing is a photo of him, one he had absolutely no idea Armie took. As he goes through the photos, he finds more and more photos of him, some of them he was aware of, like the one by the bright yellow door Armie took after they almost kissed; others he has never seen before or even imagined they existed. Suddenly, all the worries he could have seem to be washed away and he can barely control the smile that consumes him.

The doorbell catches his attention though and he swiftly gets up, rushing down the stairs. He turns down the volume of the music, walks over to the door and opens it, his eyes on the tall man that stands in front of him.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"Yeah, I´m looking for Armie, is he back yet?"

"No, he won´t be back for a couple more days. Would you like me to give him a message or something?"

The man frowns, scratching the back of his neck.

"I´m sorry, who are you?"

"I´m Timothée, his boyfriend."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie looks through the cabinet, trying to come up with something he can do for dinner, even if he knows his father isn´t exactly the most keen on fancy dinner at the moment. He grabs a bag of pasta, a large pan and fills it with water, placing it on the stove. He walks to the fridge, grabs some tomatoes and onions, places it down on the counter and is just about to reach for a knife when he hears his phone ringing.

He looks around the kitchen, trying to find it and then rushes over to the living room, grabbing it on the coffee table. He smiles as soon as he sees it´s Timothée Facetiming him and quickly hits accept, waving at him as his face fills up his screen.

"Hey, there."

"Hey," he waves back, a little cheeky grin plastered on his face. "So, when were you planning on telling me you were actually going out with someone else?"

"What?," Armie asks slightly confused before his eyes go wide. He groans, burying his face in his hand as he shakes his head. "Fuck, I completely forgot about William."

"Yeah, but he didn't forget about you. He actually stopped by to see if you were back home already, and much to his surprise I introduced myself as your boyfriend, so I'm guessing he is a bit confused right now."

"We only went out twice, we had something planned for Friday but then my dad called and I told him what had happened. He said everything was okay, that we would reschedule to a time I was feeling better and that was it. Then all of a sudden you are here at my parent's house, and everything just got even crazier inside my head. I didn't even think about him, but now I feel like crap for putting him and you through this."

"You don't have to worry about me, Armie. I ended things between us, you had all the right to try and move along with your life. William on the other hand, must be waiting for some kind of explanation."

"I know," he groans, shaking his head. "And I really shouldn't do this by phone, but I can´t wait until I´m back home."

"I think right now it is better to do it over the phone than don´t do it at all."

Armie nods, watching as Timothée chuckles at the look of despair on his face.

"How awkward was it, huh?"

"It was awkward, but I´ve been through worse in my life."

"I´m so sorry, Timmy."

"Seriously, it's okay."

"You're still at my place?"

"Yeah. I came to check out on Archie, like you asked, then decided to clean around the house a bit. William showed up, we had our little awkward chat, then I decided to cook myself something to eat. At this point, I might just stay the night, to be honest."

"Be my guest," he smiles, leaning his elbows against the counter. "You didn't have to clean the house though."

"I know I didn't have to, but you already have so much upon your shoulders. It didn't feel right to leave it all here for you to clean once you´re back, so I took care of it."

"Thank you."

"That's what boyfriends do, right?"

"I like hearing that word come out of your mouth."

"I like saying, although I never thought I would."

"See how much things can change?"

"I´ve been learning more and more about that ever since you walked into my life."

"And to think you didn't even want to meet me."

Timothée shrugs. "I was stupid, what else can I say."

"You´re far from stupid."

"You are right, I am."

Armie chuckles, staring at Timothée with loving eyes. He didn't think someone could so easily make him feel so light, specially in the situation he found himself in, but here he was, staring at Timothée and finding himself completely worry free.

"Has the internet gone bad or you´re just staring at me like a crazy man?"

"I´m just staring at you like a crazy man, who´s very much in love with his boyfriend."

Timothée smiles, shaking his head. "You can be really silly, Hammer."

"I know, but I have a feeling you love it."

Timothée shrugs, although he can´t help but smile. "Maybe I do."

Armie winks, smiling wide as Timothée laughs. "So, how was work?"

"Work was pretty much the same, although Chris and Zoe looked like two vultures on top of me the whole day, begging to know exactly what happened while I was there."

"I had a feeling that would happen."

"What about you and your dad? How's everything going?"

"We´re slowly getting there, I would say. My dad is talking more, spending more time out of his bedroom and even went out for a walk with me this morning. I still catch him staring at the garden for long periods of time, but I guess it's something that calms him down and brings good memories of her."

"He's gonna be okay, Armie."

"I know he will."

"You still coming back on Sunday?"

"That's the plan," he nods. "I might try dragging my dad with me though, I´m not sure I would be alright leaving him here all alone."

"I think that's a good idea."

"We wouldn't have the house for ourselves though."

"There´s still my apartment," he winks.

"Oh yeah," Armie wiggles his eyebrows, a cheeky grin on his face. "I should go now, I still have to cook dinner."

"Go go, we can talk later."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Music plays in the apartment as Timothée exits the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walks over to his closet, grabs some random clothes from it and quickly puts it on, fingers running through his hair to put the curls back in place. He takes a look around the bedroom, throws some clothes in the laundry bin and then walks over to his work desk, fixing a couple of things.

He catches a glimpse of his bag and reaches for it, taking a photo of him and Armie from it. He didn't mention it to him, but he stole one of the photos he found in his studio, one where they both made silly faces to the camera, the ocean behind them. He smiles, traces the photo with his fingers and then wanders around the bedroom, searching for a frame he can use.

As the intercom rings, Timothée rushes over to the living room, quickly answering it. He unlocks the gate, allows the delivery guy in and opens the door, standing by the threshold until the man shows up at the elevator door. He grabs the bags, hands him the money and rushes back inside, placing the food down on the counter before he walks back to the living room and replaces the old photo of him, Zoe and Chris, with the one with Armie.

He smiles down at it, wishing he could actually be there with him, helping more in this delicate time Armie was going through. No matter how much he tried to be helpful, it always felt like he wasn't doing enough. He sighs, shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind off of those thoughts and walks back to the kitchen, taking plates and glasses out of the cupboards.

As the front door opens once again, Timothée raises his gaze and smiles, watching as Chris makes his way in, a bottle of Tequila in his hands as he bursts into some moves right in the middle of the living room.

"Excited, aren't we?"

"It's Friday, my friend, I should be excited. Even though sitting at your apartment, watching old school movies and eating burritos was not the idea I had in mind at first."

"Oh, so I´m your second choice?"

"You´re technically the fourth choice."

"I should have invited Zoe instead of you."

"Yeah, like Zoe would choose to hang out here instead of going out with her new hunk boyfriend."

Timothée frowns, but eventually nods his head, knowing Chris is actually right.

"What are we eating today, my friend?"

"Burritos, tacos and churros."

"Oh, you're really going for it, huh?"

"I don't really have much to do, so I decided food would be my best friend for the night."

"Missing your hunk already?"

"We only had two days together and after everything we went through, it definitely doesn't feel like it was enough. You know what I mean?"

"Of course, you want to make it up for the lost time," Timothée nods, reaching for the bottle of Tequila and pouring each of them a shot. "But I know you enough to know there´s something else clouding your head, isn´t there?"

"I don´t know what you are talking about."

"Are we really gonna play this game? Just tell me what's going on, Tim."

Timothée sighs, scratches the back of his neck and lets his eyes wander to his glass. He takes the shot, grunting as the liquid burns down his throat, but letting out a loud sigh afterwards.

"I´m not entirely sure I can do this, Chris."

"Do what exactly?"

"Be a boyfriend, be in a relationship with someone and not be a total mess."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Of course I´m serious, Chris."

"Timothée, you´re already in a relationship."

"Yeah, but like I said, we only spent two days together. The real test will happen once he's back here and we actually spend more time together."

"You spent weeks with this guy, Timothée, remember that? That's how you fell in love with him, by spending time with him. What makes you think things now will be different?"

"The road trip was different, there was always something happening around us."

"Okay, I´m gonna stop you right now," Chris says while shaking his head. "I get where your fear comes from, alright? You love Armie and you want this relationship to be perfect, but sadly perfect relationships do not exist. I know you´ve been hurt, it left you scars, it left you with a fear of being abandoned by the people you love, but it´s time you understand not everyone is your father. Most importantly, Armie is not your father. He loves you, Timothée, he cares about you and he´s giving you a chance after everything that happened, don´t let fear take you over. You´re an incredible guy, who already went through the hardest part of this whole thing, which was to go there and actually tell him everything, confess how much he means to you and that you wanted to be with him. Now all you gotta do is stop trying to predict the future and just live the moment."

"Live the moment," Timothée mumbles while nodding his head.

"Yes. Live the moment, cherish every single phone conversation you have with him, every kiss and every laugh you two share. Your relationship is gonna be filled with ups and downs, like everyone else's, but if you´re honest with yourself and him, things will be a lot easier to deal with."

Timothée inhales deeply and then exhales, a large smile appearing on his lips. He reaches for Chris, holding onto his shoulders as he pulls him closer, their foreheads pressed together.

"Thank you for being such an honest and caring friend, I don´t think I could have gone through everything that happened the last two months without you."

"I don´t know what you would do without me either, but hopefully enough, you won´t ever have to find out."

"Hopefully," he winks, patting his shoulder before he leans back, a sigh of relief escaping him.

"Can we eat now, I´m kind of hungry."

"Always ruining the moment."

"Hey, I had two guys that would very much like to get in my pants, but I chose to be here with you."

"You said I was your fourth choice."

"Well, these other two guys only texted me when I was already on my way here."

"You´re such a whore."

"Says the puritane," Chris rolls his eyes, grabbing one of the bags for himself as Timothée laughs, pouring themselves yet another shot.

* * *

  
  
  


Armie pokes his head inside the bedroom, his eyes wandering around the place until he finally spots his father by the balcony, sitting quietly while he watches the street below him. He smiles to himself, takes a deep breath and walks in, heading over to him. He stands behind his chair, hands resting on his shoulder, which he gently squeezes before taking a seat at the empty chair beside him.

They sit down in silence for a couple minutes, much like Paul and Victoria did many times during the ten years they spent in that house. Sometimes they would both be reading, sometimes they just wanted to be together in silence, watching the streets of the city they learned to love as their own. Sitting there with him, Armie can vividly recall many of the times he would arrive to visit them and they would be sitting there, in the exact same way they are doing now.

"Dad, I want to talk to you about something."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything´s okay."

Paul nods, glancing at Armie. "Then what is it?"

"I´m going back home on Sunday and I thought that maybe you could come with me, spend a few days at my place."

"What? No, that´s not necessary."

"C´mon, dad, it's just a few days."

"Armie, I love you and I understand what you´re trying to do, but you are in a brand new relationship, I don´t wanna be the annoying father that keeps getting in the way."

"Oh for fuck´s sake, dad. I want you to come with me, alright? I want you there, so don't think, even for a second that you´ll be annoying me."

"Maybe not at the beginning, but after a few days, I'm sure I will."

"Do I annoy you after a couple of days, is that what you´re trying to tell me?"

Paul chuckles, shaking his head. "No, that´s not what I am saying, Armand."

"Don´t Armand me, dad, because it's not gonna work," he shoots him a look, but can´t help but chuckle afterwards. "Seriously, dad, please come with me. I think it's gonna be good for you, and for me too to have you around."

"Have you talked to Timothée about this?"

"You're my dad and it's my house, Timothée doesn´t have a say on it. But if it's so important to you, yes, I have talked to him and he agrees with me."

"I don´t know, Armie," Paul sighs, rubbing his hands against his jeans. "You just started a relationship, you have work to do and if I´m there, you won't be able to focus on anything because you´ll be worried about me."

"I´ll be even more worried if you´re not there, dad."

Paul shakes his head and Armie sighs. He knew it wouldn't be easy to convince him, but this is turning out to be way worse than he expected. He rubs his face, takes in a deep breath and knees down in front of his father, taking his hand in his.

"I love you and I am worried about you, dad. I know how hard it has been for you to deal with this whole thing, and I can only imagine how lonely you must be feeling without her around. If I go and leave you here all alone, I´m not gonna be able to concentrate on anything, because my mind will be here with you, every single day and every single hour. This is not permanent, I know you love this place and I know you want to be here, where everywhere you look there's a memory of her, but right now I think it could be good to get out of here, even if just for a couple of days."

"Armie.."

"Can you at least think about my offer? Please?"

Paul nods and leans closer, cradling Armie´s face in his hands. "Your mom did a great job with you, Armie. You´re the sweetest and most patient person I've ever met, no doubt she was always so proud of you."

"You both raised me well, dad. If I am what I am today, it's because of both of you, okay?"

Paul simply nods, a couple tears streaming down his face.

"I love you dad and I only want what's best for you, so please, just consider what I said, okay?"

"I will, kiddo."

"Thank you," Armie smiles and wraps his arms around his father, giving him a tight hug.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Hey," Armie hears the cheerful voice on the other side of the line while he climbs into bed, leaning his back against the pillows, the faint light of the bedside lamp illuminating the bedroom.

"Hey there, how you doing?"

"I´m alright. Chris left just a few minutes ago, we watched a couple movies, ate some Mexican food and almost finished a bottle of Tequila, so I think it was a very productive night."

"You, Chris and a whole bottle of Tequila? That's interesting."

"What? Are you jealous of him now?"

"Well, as far as I'm concerned you two already slept together, so..."

"So, I can honestly tell you that I have absolutely no attraction for Chris for years now. Not only that, but I´m pretty sure if given the option, he would choose to fuck you."

"Oh really? Why don´t you send me his contact then, I´ll see if we can arrange something once I´m back in Brooklyn."

"Very funny, Hammer."

"I´m not joking," he says in a serious tone, a smile appearing on his face as Timothée remains in complete silence on the other side of the line. "I thought you weren't the jealous type?"

"Fuck off."

Armie laughs, the tone of pure annoyance in Timothée´s voice quite amusing to him.

"Anyway, how are you?"

"I´m doing fine, just a little bit tired."

"Did you talk to your dad?"

"Yeah, but he isn´t really keen on the idea."

"I guess that was expected, right?"

"It was, but he's pretty reluctant," Armie sighs, his eyes wandering to the ceiling. "I hope he will eventually change his mind, because I´m not gonna feel comfortable leaving him here all alone right now. But at the same time, I can´t be here forever, you know? I have stuff to do back home, I have Archie to take care of and I got you."

"I am doing fine, you don't have to worry."

"I´m not worried about you, I know you can handle yourself, but I want to be with you. We already spent way too much time apart, I want to cherish every second we can have together."

A moment of silence passes and Armie cocks an eyebrow, suddenly a little bit worried. He knows Timothée well enough by now, he understands he is still working on some of his internal problems. He can´t help but be scared he will be too affectious and end up scaring him off.

"Timmy?"

"I´m here, I´m just...," he trails off, but Armie can hear him chuckle in the distance. "I miss you already, as corny and stupid as this might sound."

"It sounds like none of these things," Armie assures him. "And I miss you too, but I promise you once I´m back we´re gonna make it up for all the time we lost."

"I can´t wait for that."

"Me neither."

Another moment of silence as Armie slides further down on the bed, his hand running through his hair.

"Armie?"

"Yes?"

"Did you read the article?"

"What?"

"The article, did you read it? I mean, we were still apart when it came out, but I sent you a copy and I was wondering if you did read or not."

"I read, just not the copy it was sent to me. I read the one that was here at my parents´s house."

"Oh, okay."

"Why?"

"Well, I was wondering what you thought of it. But also, I kind of left you a note inside the magazine."

"So it wasn´t Zoe who sent me?"

"She only heard about afterwards. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I didn't have the courage to stand in front of you and do it, so I wrote a little note apologizing to you and asking you to talk to me."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I don´t know, there was so much happening, the note seemed irrelevant."

"I´ll make sure to read it once I get back."

"Nothing you haven´t heard yet, to be honest."

"Still want to read it," he replies and smiles. "And about the article, I thought it was very sweet and clearly written by someone who understood me, someone who cared about me. I also appreciate that you kept your promise and didn´t..."

"Include your mom's illness," Timothée finishes off. "Whether or not we were together, that promise wasn´t something I was going to break. I knew how important it was for you to keep that away from the article, and even if you hadn't asked me that, it was not up to me to tell the world about it."

"Thank you."

"No need for that."

"Not only for keeping my mom away from it, but also for the article itself."

"Again, no need to thank me, I was literally just doing my job."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "And you´re fucking great at it."

"I kind of am."

"I can´t wait to see you again, after all this time apart, these last two days have been even worse."

"I know exactly what you´re saying. I think once we get a taste, we never want to let go."

"Well, I´m not letting go."

"Aren't you, Rose?"

"No, Jack, I won´t let go."

Timothée´s laugh fills Armie´s ears and he smiles, feeling all warm inside.

"Hey, there's one thing you never answered me."

"What?"

"Jacob or Edward?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Hey, I´m going through a hard time here, can you please amuse me by answering the goddamn question?"

"Are you seriously playing that card right now?"

"Desperate times, my friend."

A sigh escapes Timothée on the other side of the line.

"There was never anything to choose, I was team Edward, of course."

Armie laughs. "Oh my God, you properly read those books, didn't you? The certainty in your voice is just..."

"Shut up!"

"I´m sorry, but it's just too much for me to handle right now."

"You either stop laughing or I'm gonna hang up."

"You wouldn´t."

"Try me, Hammer."

"You hang up on me and I´ll force you to go camping again."

"Only if you want to hear me complain about it for the rest of our lives."

"I´ll take it."

"Will you?"

"Well, it implies we´ll be together for a long time, so I´ll take my chances."

"Idiot."

"I´d say you´re a bigger idiot for deciding to be with me."

"And suddenly I'm rethinking my decision."

"I'll pretend to believe that."


	35. A Pleasant Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full time boyfriend

It´s a strangely warm October morning, the sun high up in the sky as the promenade becomes filled with people. Some of them are exercising, others are out with their kids, while the majority walks their dogs. Timothée is one of those people, walking slowly down the pavement as he watches the river, his hand gripping tightly onto Archie´s leash.

His gaze wanders down at the dog from time to time, smiling as he sniffs away. Timothée always loved dogs, but his mother never allowed him to have one around, probably afraid it would be something else for her to deal with. But although he loved them, Timothée had to admit he was glad Archie was so calm, otherwise he doubts he would have been able to actually take care of him.

As he spots an empty bench, quite a rarity that morning, he takes a seat and brings Archie closer, leaning down to pat him behind the ears. When Archie sits down in between his feet, so comfortable and at ease with him, Timothée thinks back to the first time he saw him, how he ran over to him and Armie saying he clearly had liked him. Maybe Archie was the first one to notice the potential they had.

He chuckles at the thought, takes Archie in his arms and places him on his lap, stroking his fur as he watches the people walking by. Minutes go by without Timothée noticing, the peacefulness he finds himself in quite addictive. With all the strength left in him though, he manages to push himself up and head back from where he came from, Armie´s house appearing in the distance not too long after.

He notices Archie getting tired, his steps becoming shorter and picks him up, chuckling as he rests each paw in one shoulder, his snout perfectly resting on the crook of his neck. Timothée strokes his back as he takes the steps towards the house, but frowns once he reaches for the handle and notices the door is unlocked. He pushes it open anyway, walking in slowly in case there is anyone unwanted lurking around.

He closes the door behind him, voices filling the air, leaving him even more confused until...

"Oh, there he is."

Timothée looks up at the mezzanine, where Lee and Taylor are, staring back at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Armie asked me to look out for Archie until he got back," he explains while putting Archie down and taking the leash off of him. "He didn´t want to disturb you guys with anything else, so I kind of took charge."

"Of course he would do something like this," Taylor mumbles while shaking his head. "He might have forgotten to tell us you were coming to take care of Archie."

"So we got here, realized he wasn´t and started to freak out a little bit."

"As you can see," Timothée gestures to Archie, who´s peacefully lying by the couch. "He is doing just fine."

"You cleaned the house too, didn´t you?"

"Is it that noticeable?"

Lee chuckles, running down the stairs with Taylor following. "I guess it is safe to say Armie wasn´t really in the mood for cleaning the last month, so the house might have been neglected."

Timothée nods, knowing exactly what he means by that. He takes a deep breath, walking over to the kitchen as the guys join him on the down floor.

"You guys want anything? I brewed some coffee before taking Archie out for a walk, it's still pretty fresh."

"Some coffee would be nice," Taylor shrugs.

"And I promise I won´t poison you, Taylor."

"I never thought you would."

"Good to know you don´t think that bad of me," he mocks as Taylor nods slowly, slightly embarrassed and Lee laughs. "Sorry."

"Nah, I kind of deserved that."

"You did."

Timothée smiles, pouring down three mugs of coffee as he watches the two friend´s banter. He can clearly see Armie among them, laughing, making jokes and teasing them.

"I don´t have anything to eat though, was thinking of doing some grocery shopping later today, make sure the house is well-supplied."

Taylor takes the mug in his hand, giving him a quick thankful smile. "You are full in the boyfriend character, aren´t you?"

"I guess I am trying my best," he shrugs, handing another mug to Lee. "I have never done this before, so I'm really just winging it."

"I think you are doing pretty well," Lee winks at him, a gentle smile on his face. "Have you talked to Armie the past few days?"

"Yesterday night."

"Will he be back tomorrow as planned?"

"He hopes so, he's got work to do and things to take care of, but he is trying to get his dad to come along with him for a few days. He doesn´t want to leave him alone at the house and I doubt he will feel comfortable leaving without him."

"Knowing uncle Paul, this is not gonna be easy."

Lee nods, taking a few sips of his coffee. "The guy is stubborn, just like Armie can be. But I think he will understand where Armie is coming from, right? He just wants what's best for him."

"Yes, but apparently he is afraid he will bother, so he doesn´t want to come. Besides, I think he doesn´t want to stay away from Victoria's things just yet, you know what I mean?"

"My uncle did the same once my aunt died, he was only okay when he was around her stuff," Taylor tells, taking a seat at the arm of the couch. "Grief can be quite complicated."

"Tell me about it," Timothée mumbles, watching as both guys turn to him with a frown. "Anyway, I think I should go back to my apartment and get some things done before heading to the grocery store. You guys are staying?"

"Oh no, we just came to check on Archie. Taylor is taking me to a club for the day, which I know is gonna be a pain in the ass, but he insists on doing it."

"Yeah, I saw just how annoyed you were when I mentioned the heated pool, the free lunch and all that crap."

"I´ll never say no to a friend, okay?"

Taylor rolls his eyes, grabs the mug from his hand and heads to the kitchen, quickly rinsing them before drying off his hands. He grabs his sunglasses and jacket, puts them on and walks past Lee, grabbing onto his arm and leading him towards the front door.

"C´mon, we have things to do and so does Timothée."

"Thanks for stopping by, guys."

"Thank you for taking care of him," Lee replies before giving him a quick hug. "You're good to him."

"Thank you, it means a lot to me that you are okay with us."

"I´m okay with whatever makes him happy. And don´t worry about Taylor, alright? He's slowly coming around."

"Okay," he nods with a smile. "Bye guys, have a fun day at the club."

"I´ll try my best."

Taylor rolls his eyes again, shaking his head. "Oh fuck off."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The warm Saturday weather didn´t seem to make much impact on the citizens of Scarsdale, who remain inside their houses and leave the streets nearly empty. Standing just a block away from his father's house, Armie stands with a couple of bags in his hands, nodding slowly as he listens to an old lady.

She has her hand resting on his arm, squeezing it from time to time as she maintains a low and tender voice, her kind eyes staring right back at him, who keeps a small smile on his face.

"...and remember that we are here for whatever you and your father may need, okay? Your mother was a terrific woman and everyone here absolutely loved her, we will be more than happy to help you guys."

"Thank you, Mrs. Watson."

"No need to thank me, son."

Armie places a gentle kiss on her cheeks, chuckling as she giggles slightly. She gives him a quick hug before he can turn on his heels, heading down the street and back to his house, a sigh escaping him. The amount of people who have reached out to him the last week, making sure he knows he can call them if anything is needed is heartwarming, although still leaves Armie slightly overwhelmed.

Sometimes he seems to forget what happened and a part of him still thinks he might walk down the stairs to find his mother sitting at the porch, an Iced Tea by her side as she flips through the latest magazine.

As his phone rings, Armie snaps out of his thoughts, juggling with the bags as he tries to reach out for the phone in his back pocket. He sees Timothée´s name on the screen, his lips twitching into a smile almost immediately.

"Hello," he hears Timothée say on the other side of the line, his cheerful voice always able to make Armie feel more comforted, even if they are far away.

"Hey there, how's it going?"

"Oh, you know, just a random Saturday. I stopped by your place though, took Archie for a walk and then ran into Lee and Taylor."

"Where?"

"They went to your place to check on Archie and were nearly freaking out, thinking he had ran away."

"Of course they did."

"But it was nice, we got to talk a little bit. I think they don´t hate me anymore, which is good."

"They never hated you, Tim."

"I'm pretty sure Taylor did."

Armie shakes his head as he takes up the steps to the house, placing the bags down on the couch before sitting down. "He never hated you, he was just mad at the situation, alright? You really don´t have to worry."

"If you say so," a quiet moment passes and then Timothée sighs, loud and clear. "So, how are things with your dad?"

"Pretty much the same. By now I am not really optimistic of him changing his mind, which means I will have to stay here for a little bit longer."

"Uhum."

"Hey, I´m sorry, okay?"

"You don´t have to apologize, Armie, this is your father and he should be your priority."

"Yeah, but I was looking forward to seeing you again and I know you had things planned for us tomorrow, I didn´t want to cancel it."

"Armie, we have a lifetime ahead of us, alright? Nothing is set in stone, we can postpone it for as long as you find it necessary. What matters right now is that your father is well, healthy and dealing with things as best as possible."

Armie nods, leaning his head back on the couch. "I don´t know what I´m gonna do, Timmy. I have work to deal with, I have phone calls to return to, I have dad to look after it, lawyers called to talk about mom´s inventory and I can´t help but feel stressed all over again."

"I´m so sorry you have to deal with all of this right now," Armie sighs, closing his eyes for a minute. "Is there anything I can help you with? Maybe return those calls, see what they want and try my best to deal with it? I can be your secretary for a couple days."

"You have your own work to worry about, Tim."

"Armie, let me help you. Tell me what I can do and I will find a way to do it, but you can´t have all of these on your shoulders, you need help."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Um...," Armie rubs his face, taking in a couple of deep breaths. "Maybe I can send you the names and phone numbers of the people who called and you can contact them?"

"That sounds good to me."

"I´ll do that later today, alright? I need to think about my schedule, when I´m going back to work and stuff like that."

"That seems reasonable. Just make sure to tell me everything I need to know before talking to these people and I will be the best secretary you ever had."

"I never had a secretary."

"Then I´ll set the bar very high."

Armie chuckles. "I´m so sorry we got back together in a moment I can´t really be the boyfriend you deserve."

"Armie, please, don´t say that."

"But it's true. We just got back together and we can barely be together, it doesn't seem fair to any of us."

"Maybe it's not fair or ideal, but at least we got each other to lean on. That makes everything better, doesn´t it?"

Armie nods, his eyes distant.

"Armie?"

"Yeah, it does make everything better."

"Hey, everything is gonna be okay."

"I hope you are right," he rubs his temple, blinking a couple of times. "Look, no matter what happens, I will be there by Thursday, alright?"

"Take your time, I can wait."

"What if I can´t?"

Timothée chuckles. "I need to go now, Zoe is downstairs, we are going for lunch."

"Yeah, I bought some lunch too, should probably eat it before it gets cold."

"Try to take some time for yourself, alright? Just a couple of minutes will do you so much better."

"I will try my best. Now go and have fun."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too," Armie practically whispers before hanging up the phone, a loud sigh escaping him. He grabs the bags, pushes himself up and heads inside the house, looking around for his dad. "Dad? I'm back with lunch."

"I'm here."

Armie frowns, noticing the voice comes from his father's office, which he has not been into for over a week now. He sets the things on the kitchen counter, washes his hand and heads over to the office, knocking on the wall as he leans against the threshold.

"Hey."

"Hey, why don´t you come in, I need to talk to you."

"Is everything okay?," Armie asks slightly worried while he pulls a chair for him to sit down.

"Yeah, everything is okay."

"Then what is it?"

"I´ve been thinking a lot about what you told me and a part of me is still worried that I might become a hassle for you, but I also can understand your worries, so I´ll go with you."

"What?"

"I will go to Brooklyn with you, but only for a couple of days."

"Dad, that's great."

"I don't want to be a hassle, but you were right when you said you would be even more worried about me if we were apart right now. I need you to go on with your life, and if having me around will make things easier at the moment, then that's what we are gonna do."

"It will be an honor to have you there for a couple of days. Besides, there we got Tim, Lee, Taylor and Archie. I think it will be good for you to see more people, maybe take a walk by the promenade."

"Yeah, I think changing airs might do me some good."

"It will, dad."

"Now c´mon, I'm starving. What did you buy?"

"I went to that little Italian place a few blocks away from here, bought us some gnocchi."

"Oh, that sounds good."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Yeah, that sounds great," Timothée nods to himself, phone pressed against his ear as he paces around the apartment. He stops by the counter, his finger tracing the brim of a glass of Coke, his eyes kind of distant. "You don´t have to worry, we will call you back as soon as possible."

Timothée hangs up the phone with a sigh, placing it down on the counter as he takes a seat on one of the stools. He sips from his Coke, his eyes wandering to the small notepad and he reaches for it, crossing a line above the last name on the list. Playing secretary had turned out to be a lot more work than he expected, but he is happy to help in whatever way he can find.

He checks the time and bites his lip. It's almost two in the afternoon and if things had gone well, he would be starting to work on dinner, making sure he would have everything done for when Armie got there, but now he didn´t even know when he would be back for sure. Wednesday, Thursday, maybe even next Sunday; Timothée had absolutely no idea when they would see each other again and Armie´s silence throughout the whole morning was slightly agonizing.

The knock on the door causes a sigh to escape him, but he jumps off of the stool and walks over to it, smiling gently at Chris as he stands there. He gestures for him to walk in, closes the door behind them and heads back to the kitchen, finishing his Coke in one go.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit lonely and tired."

"Okay, I can understand the lonely, but what's up with the tired bit? What the fuck have you been doing this gloomy Sunday to get you tired?"

"I spent the whole morning making calls in Armie´s behalf, trying to set up some photoshoots and rearrange others he had scheduled for the next couple of days."

"What? Are you his secretary now?"

"Kind of," he chuckles, shaking the bottle of Coke in Chris' direction, an inquisitive look upon his face. As Chris nods, he pours a glass for him and refills his own, before sliding it over to him. "He had so much to do, taking care of his father, handling his career and still dealing with stuff from his mother's passing. One minute talking to him and I could tell he was stressed and so overwhelmed, I had to do something to help, so I suggested that I took care of all these calls and stuff. It´s a lot more work than I expected though."

Chris smiles, nodding his head. "You´re one hell of a boyfriend, Tim."

"I´m trying to be," he shrugs. "But I just want to make sure he has some time to himself, you know? It has been a crazy week for him, he needs some rest."

"What about his dad? Did he finally get him to come back with him?"

"I don´t know. We talked yesterday morning and things were still the same, by the time we talked yesterday night he didn't mention anything about his dad and I haven't heard from him today."

"I thought he was coming back today."

"That was the initial plan, but since his dad wouldn't come with him, he decided to be there for a few more days."

"He´s a good son, you know? A lot of people would have walked away by now, back to their lives like nothing had happened."

"The three of them were so close, I doubt either Armie or his dad are gonna be able to get over this anytime soon."

"Well, he has you by his side to make things better."

"And I will do everything I can to help him, because it kills me to see him so sad."

Chris nods, but reaches out to take Timothée´s hands in his. "Hey, in a couple of days he will be back here, you guys will be able to make it up for the lost time and you will help him recover much more quickly. Not only that, I am sure it´s just a matter of time until you two are fooling around like crazy bunnies and using that whole secretary thing in your favor."

"I´m sorry?"

"Oh c´mon, you´re gonna tell me you didn´t think of all the ways to turn that into a kinky thing?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You and Armie, role playing as boss and secretary, him bossing you around, ordering you to do all kinds of stuff? Yeah, right."

"I had honestly not given this any thought, but you just gave me a really good idea."

"Oh shit," Chris rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Timothée laughs. "Me and my big mouth."

"No, seriously, thank you for that idea. I'm gonna pitch it to him next time we talk."

"Okay, enough of that."

Timothée shrugs, taking a few sips of his Coke as Chris looks around the place.

"So, since he is not coming back today, what are your plans?"

"None, actually."

"Wanna do something then? Maybe we can go take a walk at the park, eat some burgers or hot dogs? I mean, it's a shitty day, but we can still make the best of it, right?"

"I suppose so."

"Then let's go, you´ve been stuck in this apartment for far too long already."

Timothée wrinkles his nose, biting his lip as he stares back at Chris, who waits for an answer from him. He looks over to his phone, checks it for the tenth time in the last half hour and then nods, stuffing the gadget in his back pocket.

"Fine, let´s go."

"Trust me, you´ll feel better afterwards. You need to relax for a little bit too, specially after all the work you have done now that you´re a secretary."

Timothée rolls his eyes. "Are we going or not?"

"Let´s go."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, his eyes wandering around the house before he meets his father´s gaze. He has a tender look on his eyes, the expression of someone who has many memories flooding his head all at once. Armie smiles at him, laying a hand on his shoulder before taking his bags away from him and placing them on the couch.

He hears barking and looks over in the direction of his bedroom, kneeling down on the floor as Archie runs over to his side, licking and sniffing all over his face. Armie chuckles, patting him behind his ears and stroking his fur, his heart warming up with his presence. Sometimes so much happens he forgets how much Archie means to him, how much comfort he gets from him.

He looks over his shoulder, watching as Paul wanders around the house, slightly dreamy eyes. With Archie on his arms, Armie gets up and walks over to his dad, standing beside him by the kitchen counter.

"It's been awhile since you´ve been here."

"Yeah, it has," Paul nods, turning to face Armie. "But the strangest thing is the fact whenever I walk in here, all I can see is your grandmother standing by the front door, waving me goodbye as I walk to school. It's funny to think three generations of our family have lived here in this house, each one building different memories."

"You know I don't have many memories of grandma, but one I do have is her standing here at the kitchen, baking cookies for us when we came to visit. She was probably eighty the last time I saw her, but she looked so vivid and so excited to be cooking for us."

"She absolutely loved whenever me and your mother stopped by, and after you were born she was even more eager to have us here. It's sad you didn´t get to spend as much time with her as you should have, but I'm glad you have fond memories of her."

"She was probably one of the sweetest people I have ever met," Armie smiles.

"We were pretty lucky, Armie. The women in our lives were terrific human beings, who always supported us and cared about us as much as possible. What are we gonna do without them?"

"We will survive, dad, mostly because they taught us well."

Paul nods, giving Armie´s shoulder a quick squeeze before he takes Archie in his arms, chuckling as he snuggles closer to him.

"So, you´re staying in my bedroom and I will sleep upstairs at the studio..."

"What? No, I don´t want to kick you off of your bed."

"Dad, please. There´s enough space for me in the studio and the couch turns into a bed, so I will be fine."

"I don´t like this, I'm turning your whole life upside down."

"You´re my dad, for fuck´s sake, if I don´t do this, who the fuck will?"

"Language, kiddo," he says as Armie sticks his tongue out.

"Anyway, Timothée made sure to fill up the pantry. Want to cook something for us to eat? We can watch a movie later."

"Or you could go be with him."

"Dad, we just got here, I´m not gonna leave you here all alone."

"Armand, we´ve been together for a whole damn week and I know you miss him. So do your old dad a favor and go be with the man you love, have some fun, cook and watch a movie with him."

"Are you sure?," Armie asks, scratching the back of his neck.

"If you´re not out of that door in the next five minutes, I will go back to Scarsdale."

"Yeah, right."

Paul chuckles, sets Archie down on the floor and then holds Armie´s shoulders. "I might not be on my best moment right now, but I still want nothing but the best for you and right now going to see Timothée is the best. You have been working like crazy the last week, taking care of me, taking calls from lawyers and trying to manage your career. You deserve some time for yourself and I doubt there's a better way to let go of all the stress than being with your boyfriend."

Armie smiles. "Thanks, dad."

"You'll thank me by having fun."

"I promise you I will."

Paul winks, places a kiss on his cheek and then pushes him in the direction of the door, chuckling as Armie shakes his head. "I better not see you back tonight or I'm gonna kick your ass, kiddo."

"Fine, I´ll do my best."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée has just made it out of the bathroom when he hears a knock on the front door of his apartment, which causes him to groan. He looks around the room, reaches for a towel and wraps it around his waist, covering himself up as he drags himself through the living room.

Chris left about half an hour ago, Zoe was spending the day with her new boyfriend, so he had absolutely no idea who the hell was bothering him at eight on a Sunday night. Let alone, who the hell would get in without the doorman calling up. Maybe it was his mother, in another one of her surprise visits. Or maybe Chris had forgotten something and decided to...

"Armie?," he says incredulous as he opens the door, his eyes going wide as he sees him standing right in front of him, a wide smile plastered on his face and a bottle of wine on his hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I´m gonna be honest, I expected a different kind of welcoming."

Timothée chuckles, pulling him in and swiftly wrapping his arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as he possibly can. He nuzzles his nose against his neck, eyes closed as he takes in his scent and relishes on the warmth of his skin against his. It almost feels like a dream.

"Now, this is more like what I had in mind."

"I thought you had given up coming back today," he says rather confused while taking a step back from Armie, his hand sliding down his biceps. "What changed your mind?"

"Well, it was actually my dad who changed his mind. I just thought it would be nice to keep myself quiet and surprise you. I was going to stay put until tomorrow morning, when I would show up at the magazine and kindly steal you away from Zoe, but dad insisted that I needed some time for myself and he was right, so of course I came here."

"And brought wine."

"The best one I could find."

Timothée bites his lip, his green eyes staring back at Armie. He can barely describe the happiness that consumes him by seeing Armie right in front of him. He takes the wine in one hand and the other holds onto Armie´s, pulling him with him to the kitchen. He sets the wine down, goes to reach for some glasses, but stops himself midway.

"What?"

Timothée simply shakes his head, pushes Armie against the counter and wraps his arms around his neck once more, his lips instantly on his, kissing him passionately. He moans softly at the touch of Armie´s hands, which hold tightly onto his waist and bring him even closer, their bodies now pressed together.

The harsh touch of Armie´s beard paired with the softness of his lips is intoxicating, leaving Timothée in a frenzy, his body seeming to catch in flames. He tugs on his shirt, pulling him as he stumbles across the apartment and over to his bedroom, kicking the door shut. He pulls away enough to pull Armie´s shirt off, throwing it to the ground right before he focuses on his jeans, swiftly unzipping them and pulling them down to his ankles. With a little smirk on his face, Armie kicks off his jeans, allowing his briefs to fall down soon afterwards.

Timothée looks down in between them, biting his lips as his hands travel down Armie´s muscular and tanned body, not oblivious to the shivers that seem to run down his body. He smiles, takes off his towel and tosses it to the side, before pushing Armie down on the bed, climbing on top of him.

"I´ve missed you so much," he whispers while laying kisses down his chest.

"You have no idea how much I wanted you by my side the past couple of days," Armie replies, eyes closed and head slightly tilted to the back as Timothée moves further down, his lips now sucking on the flesh of his thigh. "Oh fuck."

Looking up, Timothée chuckles at the cute expression on Armie´s face, a mix of despair and pleasure. Much to his happiness, he is already rock hard and Timothée takes him in his hand, stroking his cock slowly while his tongue teases the head.

Armie´s moans start to echo through the bedroom, his hands gripping onto the sheets as he slowly pushes his hips forward, begging for more action, to which Timothée swiftly grants him.

Just as eager as Armie, Timothée takes him in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down on his shaft, taking more of him each second. He moans around his cock, feels his lips stretching out against it and slightly gags, although that doesn´t stop him. He keeps on moving, his fingers teasing Armie´s hole for a moment until he finally slips one in, marvelling himself at the loud moan that escapes Armie.

He pumps the finger in and out, his cock slipping out of his mouth with an obscene pop. Kneeling down on the bed, Timothée watches Armie, his flushed face, the way sweat runs down his chest, the almost imperceptive movements he makes with his hips and his lips, which form a perfect  _ O _ shape as he moans.

Leaning forward, Timothée captures him in a kiss, his hard cock pressed against Armie´s. They move their bodies, humping against one another, precum already oozing out and making a mess. Timothée has never been so horny in his entire life; but then again, ever since he had sex for the first time, he has never gone so long without it.

He grunts, his nails digging into Armie´s shoulder as he moves his hand down his back and over to his ass, circling his rim. Timothée pushes back, desperate to feel something more and nearly fucks himself on Armie´s finger the minute he slips one in.

He presses his forehead against his, his labored breathing all over Armie´s face, but he clearly doesn´t care. He wants him just as much as Timothée wants him and they have waited far too long to be back in each other's arms. Trembling from head to toe, the pleasure and excitement taking the best of him, Timothée pushes Armie´s fingers off of him and spits onto his hand, smearing it all over Armie´s cock before he guides it to his hole.

"Fuck," Armie half whispers, his head tilted back as he feels his cock slip into Timothée´s tight and warm hole. He holds tight onto his waist, helping him go further down and closes his eyes. For the first time in a whole week Armie feels relaxed, like nothing else in the world exists. There are no problems and no grief, only him and Timothée.


	36. Back Where They Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a polaroid

The streets of Brooklyn fall quiet as the rain intensifies, thunder and lightning filling up the sky. Inside the bedroom though, their whimpers and grunts echo in full volume, the bed creaking slightly everytime they speed up. Holding tightly onto the bedpost with one hand, Timothée has his head down, his curls clouding his vision as he moves his hips back and forth constantly, his hard cock slapping against Armie´s stomach.

He mumbles incoherent words, his nails digging into Armie´s shoulder while his large hands hold tightly onto his hips, encouraging him to move even faster. His body trembles, knots in the pit of his stomach everytime Armie hits his prostate, his head spinning as he finds himself stuck in a fog of pleasure.

He bites his lip, Armie´s words of praise suddenly filling the air as he slaps his ass, the sound so obscene and thrilling Timothée can barely contain himself. He arches his back, drags his hand down to Armie´s chest and knots his fingers onto his chest hair, riding him as fast as he possibly can, their pleasure and release the only thing on his mind.

Armie wraps his strong arms around him, his tongue swirling around Timothée´s perky nipples. His cock is throbbing inside of him, the warm and tightness of his hole driving him insane, but the sight of a disheveled Timothée riding him is much more appealing. He feels his fingers enter his hair, tugging on it and pulling it back, forcing him to face him.

He smiles, a wicked little smile that says so much more than words ever could. The lust, desire and love he feels for Timothée goes beyond anything he ever experienced and being back in his arms feels even better than he had predicted. His hand travels up his back, grabs onto his nape and pulls him down, gently biting onto his bottom lip before kissing him hungrily.

Timothée´s muffled moans bring a smirk to his face and Armie holds tightly onto his cock, pumping it to the rhythm of their thrusts. He crosses his thumb against the sensitive head, smears precum all over it and goes back to stroking him, pleased to see Timothée fucking himself in his hand.

A loud grunt escapes Timothée, his toes curling up as he feels Armie´s cock throb inside of him. He presses his hands against his chest, arches his back and slows down his movements while also clenching his hole, squeezing Armie´s cock inside of him. It only takes a couple more seconds and then he feels it, Armie´s hot and thick cum fill him up completely, his hoarse voice echoing as he moans and grunts, his hands gripping tightly onto his asscheeks.

Timothée closes his eyes, unable to hold back his orgasm any longer and cums all over Armie´s stomach, panting afterwards. He opens his eyes, his curls blurring his vision and the sweat dripping down his forehead; he feels tired, but never in his life has he been so fulfilled.

He falls on top of Armie, the bed creaking as they chuckle, hands stroking each other´s sides. With his head buried in the crook of his neck, Timothée takes in Armie´s scent, which now is a bit different than when he first arrived, but it remains as the one scent Timothée will never, ever get tired of. He shivers as Armie traces a finger down his spine, only to slap his ass afterwards.

Armie smiles, moving Timothée´s face so they can look each other in the eye. He pushes some of his hair back, places a gentle kiss on his lips and drags his thumb through his puffed lips. He has never looked more beautiful.

"What you say we open that bottle of wine now?," Timothée asks after a few minutes of silence.

"I think it´s a great idea, but we should probably eat something too? We´ve been locked in this room for a few hours, we need some protein and carbs if we plan on keep going."

Timothée smirks. "My pantry is filled."

"Are you really talking about your pantry right now?," Armie smiles as Timothée bursts out laughing.

"There´s something else that is full, but yeah, I was talking about my actual pantry."

Armie shrugs, a mischievous expression taking him over as he rolls them over on the bed, hovering on top of Timothée. "I´ll make sure to prepare us something, but maybe we should clean you up first."

"What are you talking... Oh shit," Timothée grips onto the sheets as Armie forces his legs open and runs his tongue across his rim, the muscles on his thigh spasming. "I thought you wanted to eat before we kept going?"

"Food is overrated anyway," Armie mumbles, winking at him before he dives back in, his tongue circling and probing Timothée´s hole.

"Jesus Christ, Hammer, you´re killing me."

"I can stop if you want."

Timothée licks his lips, his green eyes locked on Armie as he shakes his head and grabs onto his hair, pushing him back in. "Don´t you fucking dare."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The rain remains outside while on the apartment low music plays, muffling the sound of rain drops. The kitchen is a mess, toaster, bread, cheese and condiments scattered around the counter while in the living room, the now empty bottle of wine sits on the coffee table among empty plates and bread crumbs.

On the couch, Armie has his back against the arm, his legs spread wide as Timothée sits in between them, a glass in his hand as his fingers trace the brim. They are lost in each other's presence, completely unaware of anything else around them but themselves. With his eyes distant, Armie gently strokes Timothée's arm, feeling the goosebumps that creeps into him with the movement.

He missed this feeling, more than anything else in the world.

"You know," Timothée finally says, breaking the sweet silence they were sharing. "I had all these recipes separated for today, I had plans for a great little dinner for us and yet, you robbed me of that when you decided to make me a surprise."

Armie smiles, nuzzling against the mess of curls in Timothée's head. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, of all the things I thought we were gonna eat tonight, grilled cheese definitely wasn't on the menu."

"First things first, grilled cheese is a masterpiece. Second, I doubt you'd trade the night we just had for anything you had planned."

Timothée frowns, looking up at Armie, who cocks an eyebrow, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Maybe..."

"No maybes, Mr. Chalamet, I know you well."

"Oh do you?," he asks, a teasing tone in his voice as Armie nods. "Then what am I thinking right now?"

Armie stares at him, bites his lip and scrunches his nose. He chuckles as Timothée laughs at the look upon his face, then leans down, pecking his lips, the taste of wine lingering.

"You're thinking how sad it will be once I have to go back to my place," he finally says and watches as Timothée frowns. "Am I right?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, cut the crap."

"Okay, you are right. I was just thinking how nice it is to have you here, but then the fact I will wake up alone creeped in and it just made me a bit sad."

"What makes you think you will wake up alone?"

"You're going back to your dad, aren't you?"

Armie shakes his head, a smirk as he sees Timothée's face light up. "My dad said that if he saw me at the house tonight he would kick my ass, and since I have no plans in getting my ass kicked, I think you will have to deal with me until the morning."

Timothée nods, biting his lip. "Well, lucky for you I also got some nice breakfast recipes."

"Oh, I can't wait to see what you will surprise me with."

"Surprise you?," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh no, you're gonna be helping me, mister."

* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie wakes up to an empty bed, his body sprawled on it and the sheets doing very little to cover his naked body. He grunts, rubs his eyes and turns to look at the window, the grey sky still taking over New York. He sighs, turns on his back and allows his eyes to move around the bedroom, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he takes it all in.

This is undeniably Timothée's bedroom, slightly messy, filled with books, screaming with attitude while still being incredibly minimalist. He sits up, reaching for his briefs on the floor and puts them on while getting up. He walks over to the desk, his finger tracing the furniture while his eyes go from the notebook, to the laptop and one of the many books lying there.

He then moves over to the mirror, his flannel shirt hanging from it while a Polaroid of them is tucked in between the glass and the frame.  _ It seemed like he stole more than I expected _ , he thinks to himself with a chuckle. He takes the Polaroid in his hands, rushes over to the desk and grabs a pen, quickly scribbling something down before placing back where it belongs.

With a sigh, Armie walks over to the bathroom, his eyes always moving around, taking in every little bit of Timothée's apartment. He wants to engrave every bit of information about him in his brain, and right now he sees no better way to do so. He takes a quick shower, puts on his clothes and walks out of the bedroom to find Timothée at the kitchen, his head bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the music.

He smirks, arms crossed as he leans against the wall, silently watching him. It takes a whole minute for him to notice his stare, but when he does, Timothée smiles widely, his cheeks slightly flushed. Armie walks over to him, his arms wrapped around his waist as soon as he reaches him, their lips pressed in a sweet kiss.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Armie replies, his finger tucking a curl behind Timothée's ear. "I don't know what you're doing, but it smells delicious."

"I prepared a feast for us, my dear. There's cheese and ham omelet, bacon, chocolate and banana muffin, orange juice and coffee."

"Is anyone else coming for breakfast?," he chuckles as Timothée hits his chest, pushing him away so he can go to the oven. "And did you actually do all of these yourself?"

"Hell no," he laughs, shaking his head. "While you were asleep, I went downstairs and bought the muffins and orange juice at the bakery nearby. The rest is my job, but it's also the easiest bit."

Armie nods, hopping onto the counter. He reaches for one of the muffins, taking a bite of it and moans in delight.

"Oh, this is really good."

"Is one of the best muffins I ever had, almost as good as the ones in La Cafeteria."

"What is that?"

"Simply my favorite place to go to," he explains as Armie frowns. "It's a coffee shop near the magazine, there's so many good things there, I always have trouble deciding what I want. The coffee is always just the way I like it and the environment itself is very cozy. I go there when I want to write and escape the bullshit of the world."

"I didn't even know this place existed."

"I'll take you there someday."

Armie nods, reaches for the coffee pot and pours himself some, taking a few sips as Timothée walks back to him, setting down two plates with omelet and bacon.

"It looks great," he leans in to kiss him, then hops off of the counter, pulling a stool for Timothée, who smirks.

"Let's hope it tastes good too."

"I'm sure it does."

"You know me, cooking is not my biggest talent."

"I am assuming theft is high up that list?," as Timothée looks at him confused, Armie chuckles. "First I find out you got my shirt all along, then you said you stole a photograph from my place, but as I was looking into your bedroom, I happened to find yet another photo that belonged to me."

"The Polaroid?," Armie nods. "Yeah, I stole that one minutes after you took it and you didn't even notice."

"I'm gonna have to watch my back with you, huh? Sneaky fingers."

"Oh, let me tell you just how sneaky and talented these fingers are."

Armie laughs, shaking his head as Timothée winks at him.

"So, you're going to work today?"

"I have to be in the magazine in an hour."

"I can drive you there."

"You don't have to."

"It's on my way home."

"It's literally the opposite way, Armie."

"Fine, it's just an excuse to spend a little more time with you."

"Of course you can drive me there, I bet Zoe would love to finally meet you face to face."

"I'd like that too, I feel like we should thank her."

"Oh, please don't, she's already way too smug about it, you don't need to encourage her."

Armie shrugs, then reaches for a fork, taking a bite of the omelete as Timothée watches him. He looks over at him, bites his lip and then nods, watching a small smile appear on Timothée's face.

"It's actually delicious."

"Oh, thank God."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée reaches for his bag under his feet, takes off his seatbelt and turns to Armie, who looks over at him with a gentle smile. They are parked at the Cultural Affair's building parking lot, the rain falling constantly and causing chaos in the already hectic streets of New York City.

"Do you want to make a quick visit and meet the office?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to disturb anyone."

"It's just a quick visit, Armie, you're not gonna disturb anyone. Besides, if Zoe finds out you came all the way here and didn't go up, she's gonna kill you."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "And we don't want that, do we?"

"Definitely not," Timothée smirks, reaching for his shirt and gripping onto it, pulling him closer. "I just got this hot body back, I don't want Zoe's wrath to take it away from me."

"I knew it, you just want me for my body."

"What else would I be in for? Your intelligence, talent, sweetness and humble attitude? Please, I like my men as dumb as possible."

Armie shoots him a look and Timothée chuckles, shaking his head.

"You know damn well that I'm only kidding, you hot giant," he smiles, pecking Armie's lips. "Your hotness is just a very much appreciated plus side, but I'd still be here if you were short, with dirty teeth and a belly."

"Would you?"

Now it's Timothée's time to shoot him a dirty look, rolling his eyes as Armie shrugs his shoulder. He pecks his lips again, fixes his shirt and then cocks his eyebrows, gesturing over to the building.

"So, you're coming with me or not?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to visit the headquarters of the magazine anyway."

"Then let's go, because I'm almost late," he says and immediately jumps off of the car, closing the door behind him. He waits for Armie, takes his hand in his and leads him inside the building, waving at some of the people they walk past. "We've been in this building for the last two years, but when we started the magazine our office was at Zoe's parent's garage. The two of us worked from there and the other two girls worked from their home, then about a year later we managed to get an office that was small but enough to accommodate all of our ten employees."

"So you're not only the main writer for the magazine, you're one of the founders."

"I guess you could say so," he shrugs while they step into the elevator. "But Cultural Affair was always Zoe's idea. We were in our second year of college when she pitched me the idea, and she had no only the aesthetic of what it would be , but also research for public, investment and all that crap I have no idea of how to deal with."

"Still, you were there from day one."

"I was and I am extremely proud of what we accomplished with the magazine in the last four years. I never thought we would get this far, you know?"

"I'm proud of you too," Armie smiles, sliding an arm across Timothée's waist and pulling him close, kissing him softly just as the elevator's doors open. He chuckles through the kiss and slowly pulls away, biting his lip as he sees the tall black woman standing by the door, hands on her waist and a little smirk on her face.

"Well, hello there, lovebirds."

"Good morning, Zoe."

"Morning, Tim," she says as he shrugs and steps out of the elevator, pulling Armie with him. "And you are my coverboy, huh?"

"I guess I am."

She chuckles, pushing Timothée to the side so she can pull Armie in for a tight hug.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you, Armie."

"Trust me, I also couldn't wait to meet the editor of my favorite magazine and the reason why I found this beautiful boy here."

Zoe smirks, looking over at Timothée, who rolls his eyes. "Told you I should get the accolades for putting you into each other's paths."

"Why did you say this? Now she's gonna be so full of herself."

"It's not a lie though, is it?," Armie shrugs. "If it wasn't for her, maybe we wouldn't have met each other."

"I keep telling him that, Armie, but he just won't listen."

"Well, I am on your side in this one, Zoe."

"Thank you very much."

"Great, now her ego is gonna reach astronomic highs," Timothée jokes, shaking his head as Zoe sticks her tongue out. "Not that you need any more encouragement for that, of course."

"Ha ha ha, you´re so funny, I´m almost crying."

Armie chuckles, his eyes wandering from Zoe to Timothée, loving to see the interaction between them and just how at ease Timothée seems to be with her. Although he had said there were things he found hard to confide even in Zoe and Chris, Armie can see how much they mean to him.

"Anyway, are you taking your boy around the office for a little tour?"

"If he's in the mood for one," Timothée shrugs, turning to look at Armie. "But he's probably desperate to head back home and check on his dad. Right?"

"I really want to check on him, but I am sure a couple minutes more won't be a problem."

"Great, then I´ll leave you two alone and go back to my work, but first there was something else I wanted to tell you, Armie."

"What is it?"

"I am terribly sorry for what happened and I want you to know that if there is anything you might need, don´t hesitate to ask me, okay? I am here for whatever you and your dad might need and will be glad to help in any way I can."

Armie smiles, nodding his head. "Thank you so much, Zoe."

"You are Timothée´s boyfriend now, which means you are part of the family and we stick together."

"That's good to know."

"Now go and enjoy the tour," she winks at him, before turning to Timothée. "And you better remember you have to get to work eventually, so no shenanigans in the workplace, alright?"

"What the fuck do you think I´m gonna do?"

"I don´t know and I don´t even want to think about it, to be honest."

Timothée shakes his head, a quick laugh escaping him as he turns to look at Armie, standing his hand out for him to take.

"Ready to go?"

"As ready as one can be."

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, smiling as Archie rushes over to his side, jumping a couple of times before he starts to sniff the bags he is holding in his hands. He chuckles, kneels down to the floor and scratches the back of his ears, placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. He sighs, pushes himself back up and looks around the house while he makes his way to the kitchen, placing the bags down on the counter.

He turns on the coffee machine, grabs mugs and plates on the cupboard and places on the counter, reaching for butter and cream cheese on the fridge. As he waits for the coffee, Armie quickly cleans the kitchen, putting some plates back in place and washing the dirty dishes that were still on the sink. Just as he turns off the coffee machine, he hears the bathroom door open and footsteps, his father's voice low as he speaks with Archie.

Armie chuckles and then waves over at him as he comes into view, gesturing for the few bagels and donuts he has set on the counter. He takes a seat, pours a mug of coffee to himself and one for his father, sliding it over to him as he takes a seat opposite from him.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," he smiles, taking a sip of the coffee. "How was it with Timothée?"

"It was good," Armie shrugs. "Great actually."

"I can see it in your eyes."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Your infatuation with him? Yes, it's pretty damn obvious."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head. "At times, I almost feel like a teeanger again, you know? Experiencing things for the first time and being overwhelmed by the sensations."

"I know exactly what you mean, because that's what I felt when I started dating your mother. It was strange, because in the beginning I was feeling a bit foolish with the whole thing, but then I realized my feelings were so intense that it was almost scary. Later on I figured out that was just me learning to deal with the fact I was madly in love with someone, in ways I never expected to be."

"Yeah," Armie mumbles, his finger tracing the brim of the mug. "Timothée had an impact on me before we even met, I always loved reading his articles, but I know the day I saw him for the first time, I felt something different. Like, I just stared at him for a whole damn minute, unsure of what to say and it felt weird at the time, but now I know it was my brain sending me a signal probably."

Paul sighs, leaning closer to cradle Armie´s face. "I am so happy you found him, son. I know how much you love and care about him, which is clearly reciprocated, and I am happy that you will be able to live this love the way you deserve."

"Thank, dad."

"And know that your mother would be happy for you too, okay?"

"You really think so?"

Paul nods. "After the last time you visited us, she told me how sad she was that you and Timothée didn´t get the chance to live out the love you had for one another. She wanted things to work out between the two of you, so trust me when I say, she's looking down at you and smiling, because she knows you are happy."

Armie sighs and bites on his lip, his eyes down to the counter, avoiding his father's eye contact.

"What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong."

"C´mon, Armie, tell me."

Armie frowns, meeting his dad´s gaze. "Do you think that maybe it's a bit selfish of me to be having fun with my boyfriend after what happened with mom?"

Paul smiles, shaking his head. "You know better than anyone that all your mother wanted in life was to see you happy, so I doubt she would take you as a selfish person for seeking out your happiness. And if anyone makes you feel bad for being in love, for living your life and having fun because she is no longer here, please tell that person to fuck off."

Armie bursts out laughing, shaking his head as Paul shrugs. "Thanks, dad."

"You´re welcome, kid."

* * *

  
  
  


The rain has finally stopped and the night sky is nearly cloudless, although the streets remain nearly empty. Walking down the sidewalk, Timothée has a few plastic bags on his hand, his eyes wandering around the neighborhood, admiring the houses.

He reaches the house and rushes up the few steps that lead to the porch, ringing the doorbell. He can hear Archie in the distance as well as footsteps that get louder as they approach the door, which swings open suddenly, revealing Paul.

"Timothée? Armie didn´t tell me you were stopping by."

"Yeah, he doesn´t know I am here. I wanted to make him a little surprise."

"I am sure he will be thrilled to have you here," he smiles and opens the door wider, gesturing for Timothée to come inside. "You came here straight from work?"

"Oh no, I leave the magazine at around four in the afternoon. But I went to help a friend with something and then decided to come here and see if you guys wanted some dinner."

"You brought dinner too? I like you even more now."

"Thank you," Timothée says with a chuckle. "How was your first day here in Brooklyn? Did you enjoy it or you´re desperate to get back to Scarsdale?"

"A little bit of both."

He nods. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"To be honest, I only came here because I knew Armie would be worried if I stayed behind, but I have to admit I'm starting to think this might be exactly what I needed at this moment. Get out of the house, see different people, ones that are not looking at me with eyes of pity or whatever. A couple of days here will certainly do me good, although I still fear I might become a hassle to Armie."

"I doubt that very much, Mr. Hammer. Armie loves you and he is really glad to have you around, even if just for a couple of days."

"I can´t help but feel like I might come in between you two though."

Timothée shakes his head, placing the bags on the kitchen counter. "Mr. Hammer, trust me when I say you're not coming in between anyone, nor that you are a hassle. Armie wants you here and I agree that being here might be exactly what you need to work through everything that happened the last few days. Besides, I still have my apartment if we need to run away somewhere."

"That's true," Paul chuckles. "What did you bring, huh?"

"I hope you like Thai food."

"Much like my son, when it comes to food and drinks, I like pretty much everything."

"See, having you here is gonna be a blast, I can already tell."

"Thank you, Timothée."

"There´s no need to thank me, I was gonna get food for myself anyway."

"Not for the food," Paul says while landing a hand on his shoulder. "For being here for my son in this difficult time and giving him something to smile about. You mean a lot to him and for a parent, seeing their child so happy is the best gift in the world."

"Your son is very important to me, Mr. Hammer. And I know I made my mistakes, but I learned from them and I will do anything I can to be here for him, help him with whatever he may need and take care of him."

"And for that I thank you."

Timothée nods, smiling as Paul pulls him to a tight hug, patting his back. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, opening them as he hears a door open and sees Armie standing by his bedroom, arms crossed as he stares at them.

"What have I missed?," he asks eventually, causing Paul to pull away from Timothée.

"Your boyfriend brought us dinner."

"Really?"

Timothée shrugs. "I had the option of staying home alone, but I thought it would be way nicer to come here and spend some time with you guys. So I stopped by a restaurant, bought some Thai food and came here to see what you two are up to."

Armie nods, cradling his face as he plants a soft kiss on his lips. "I loved the surprise."

"Knew you would."

"What about we find something to watch then? Have a little movie marathon maybe."

"Sounds good to me," Paul says while emptying the bags on the counter. "You guys go pick the movie, I´m gonna get us some forks and maybe some beers?"

"Beer is perfect."

Paul nods and Armie turns back to Timothée, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they walk over to the living room, sitting on the couch side by side, Armie´s dvd collection already on the coffee table. They look over at each other, smiles on their faces until Timothée nudges Armie, who chuckles and watches as he grabs the dvd box to himself, frowning as he goes through all the titles.


	37. No Such A Thing As Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reassurance

Timothée´s laughter echoes in the quiet apartment, the sheets that were once wrapped around his naked body now on the ground, piled up along with the rest of their clothes. Thrashing around on the bed, he has his curls clouding his vision, his cheeks flushed and lonely tears streaming down his cheek from time to time. He curls up, using his arms to try and protect himself, but he knows there is no use.

Armie smirks, enveloping his arms around his slim figure, holding it tight onto his waist as he pulls him closer, throwing him over his shoulder as he kneels on the bed. He reaches closer, playfully biting Timothée´s buttcheeks, causing a squeal to take over the room while he slams his fists against his back, demanding to be put down.

Timothée slaps Armie´s ass, kicks his legs and does his best to get away from his grip, his laughter and screams mixing together as he falls down to the bed with Armie on top of him, his large and strong body squishing him.

Armie laughs, taking a couple of deep breaths as he leans on his elbows, his blue eyes staring deeply into Timothée´s as he pushes his curls back. He winks down at him, leans against his touch when Timothée cradles his face, but swiftly moves away from his touch and buries his face in the crook of his neck, kissing and biting onto his skin, his beard scratching him.

"Okay, okay, I give up," Timothée says out of breath, holding tightly onto Armie´s biceps.

"Oh really?"

"Really," he says while trying to push him off of him. "Now can you please get the hell off of me? You´re gonna squish me to death here, dude."

"I truly hope that doesn´t happen, it would be a terrible waste."

Timothée shakes his head, a loose smile plastered on his face as he stares up at Armie, his green eyes nearly sparkling. It feels good to have his walls down, be able to trust in someone, share your story with them and be part of theirs too. Timothée almost can´t remember why on earth he spent so much time hiding his feelings...hiding himself.

He sighs, biting his lip as Armie cocks an eyebrow, rolling to his side on the bed. He looks over at him, snuggles closer to his naked body and rests his head on his chest, his finger gently tracing his arm.

"What is going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing. Why you ask?"

"Because you grew silent all of a sudden and I know that look in your eyes that says, I have way too much in my head but I need to keep quiet or else I will actually have to deal with it."

Timothée gasps, looking up at Armie, who shrugs.

"What? I know you pretty well, haven´t I made that clear yet?"

"You actually have made that very clear the last two weeks, which is quite unsettling to me."

"Still scared shitless?"

"How did you feel when you started your first real relationship?," he asks as Armie goes to speak, but remains in silence, nodding his head. "Exactly. You might have done this before, but I haven´t, so it will take me awhile."

He kisses Armie´s cheek, swings a leg over his body and straddles him, his hand resting on his chest.

"But then, I am also absolutely loving every single second of this relationship, so I guess that balances out the fear."

"This is one of the most romantic things you have ever said, Chalamet."

He shrugs. "I'm learning with the best."

"Oh really?"

"Well, some things rub off, you know?"

"Yet I can´t get you to agree to the one thing I want."

Timothée closes his eyes, groaning as he falls back down on the bed, rubbing his face. "Why are you so fixated on this idea of a dinner, Armie?"

"Why are you so against it?"

“Look, if you want to get our friends all together here, I think that's great, but why involve our parents in this whole thing?"

"Because maybe I want to get to know your mother?"

"My mother is complicated, Armie."

"You said you and her were fixing things, making amends and finding a way to deal with the problems you guys faced in the past. I don't know what you´re so scared of, Tim."

"Armie, the fact we are working things out doesn't mean everything's alright. We are trying our best, but still have our moments, okay? Just the other we had another argument, because she was once again trying to control the decisions I make in my life."

Armie sighs, leaning on his side so he can look at Timothée, his finger gently tracing his jaw. "Families are complicated, Tim, that's something we all have in common."

"Your family is perfect."

"That doesn't exist, Timothée. No family is perfect, there's always something going on, things that are hard to talk about, that we wish we didn't have to deal with, but they are real and need to be discussed. Ignoring your mother, pretending she doesn't exist and keeping me away from meeting her is only delaying something that will happen anyway."

"I will delay as much as possibly then."

Armie sighs. "Is this how you're working things out?"

"That's not fair," he shakes his head, sitting down. "I am being honest with you, sharing my fears and insecurities. I am doing my best here and you should know it."

"I know," Armie smiles. "But when it comes to your mom, I fear that you´re still swiping a lot of things under the rug and that won´t help. Until you and your mom are in good terms again, once for all, I fear you won't fully achieve what you want."

"I hate you," Timothée says after a moment.

"No you don´t, and you know if I am saying this is because I care about you," as Timothée nods, Armie sits up, taking his hands in his. "Tim, talking over the phone is not gonna solve anything the way you want it to be solved. You and your mother have been through a lot, you both share the same scars from the past, things your father caused, so why not join forces to make things easier? Call her, ask her to come here and instead of just talking, show her the places that you love, the people that you care about and the job you´re so proud of. Let her see, through her own eyes, that even though she is not always here, next to you and able to protect you, you still have people around that are willing to do anything to support you."

"That...," he sighs, shaking his head. "That actually sounds like a good idea."

"Trust me, it is."

"Doesn't mean I am agreeing on this dinner just yet."

"Oh my God," Armie groans, throwing himself down on the bed. "You´re so fucking stubborn."

"And you should be used to it by now, my friend."

"Is this my curse?," Armie mocks as Timothée sticks his tongue out. "Are you some kind of God given test to me?"

"If I am, I am the best and hottest test you could receive, so you should feel lucky."

"Oh, I am," he winks, grabbing Timothée by the arm and pulling him down on top of him, before rolling them over on the bed, attacking him with tickles.

"Oh c´mon," Timothée says between chuckles, kicking his legs. "Not this again, stop! Armie! Stop!"

  
  


* * *

Armie swirls around on his chair, the back tilted backwards as he stares up to the ceiling, a large smile on his lips and the phone pressed to his ear. He nods to himself, paying close attention to what is said on the other side of the line before circling back around, easing himself closer to his desk.

He frowns, moves some papers to the side and allows his expression to soften once he finds the calendar. His finger traces the dates, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and blue eyes bright and vivid. He looks almost like a kid on Christmas morning, surrounded by presents and unsure of where to start.

"That sounds perfect to me, Mr. Parker," he nods to himself again, hand tapping on the desk. "Yes... I look forward to seeing you too. Thank you very much."

Armie hangs up, placing the cellphone down on the desk as he lets out a contentment sigh, his smile so big his cheeks are starting to hurt. He pushes himself up, rushes down the stairs and over to the kitchen, where his father is pouring himself a glass of water.

"Well, someone looks happy."

"I just got off the phone with Louis Parker, he's the editor of a traveling magazine and he wants to have a meeting with me."

"About?"

"About the possibility of doing an article on less popular road trips destinations, using my photos and my experience on it."

"Son, that sounds amazing."

"I know," Armie nods, hopping onto the counter. "There's still a lot to be discussed about it, but I think this could turn out to be something really good."

"I'm so proud of you, kiddo," Paul smiles, patting Armie's shoulder. "There are so many doors opening up for you lately, your career is on the rise and it's beautiful to see it happening first hand."

"Does that mean you are saying a little bit longer?," Armie cocks an eyebrow, but sighs as Paul shakes his head. "C'mon dad, you know you can stay for as long as you need."

"Armie, I've been here for two weeks already, it's time I go back to my house."

"But you're gonna be all alone there, dad?"

"In some ways, yes. But your mother's presence will always be there with me, making me company. Besides, I'm a grown man, I can deal with being alone. I absolutely love that you care though, thank you."

"You're my dad, what else was I supposed to do?"

Paul nods, leaning against the counter besides Armie. "Look, I will always miss your mother by my side, but I am also aware that being stuck in the past is not the way to deal with things. I am doing just fine, I lived through my grief and now I need to move forward, because that's exactly what she would want me to do. So please, don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Armie reaches for his hand, squeezing it softly as he leans his head against his shoulder.

"I'm gonna miss having you around here, dad."

"Yeah, right."

"What? I will!"

"The second I leave and Timothée walks through that door, you'll be glad I'm not home so you can get as naughty as you can," Armie laughs, nudging him softly as Paul smirks. "What? Am I lying?"

"Not really."

"I knew it," he shakes his head, pushing away from Armie, who shrugs. "Now, how about you help me out with lunch while we talk more about this magazine thing, huh? I want to hear everything about it."

Armie nods, hoping off of the counter and walking over to the sink, washing his hands. "I will meet with Mr. Parker on Friday morning to...."

  
  
  


* * *

Timothée has his back leaned against the leather seat of the booth, his fingers tracing the brim of the mug while his eyes are stuck to the window, watching as people walk past the coffee shop, most of them in a hurry to get to their work, home or loved one. He looks up to the sky, which is filled with grey clouds, a prelude to the rain the meteorologists have been talking about for days on the television.

"Are you even listening to me?," Chris´s voice echoes, bringing Timothée back to reality, his eyes blinking a couple of times before he frowns, leaning closer to him. "You seriously haven´t listened to word I said, have you?"

"Sorry, I spaced out a little bit."

"Alright," Chris nods, leaning back on his seat, arms crossed above his chest. "I see you really are worried about this whole dinner thing, aren´t you?"

"You would be worried too if you were in my shoes."

"I don´t think so."

"C´mon, Chris."

"Tim, unless you´re suddenly ashamed of your mother or something, I really don´t see the reason why you´re so damn reluctant about this dinner. What is it exactly that makes you so scared?"

"Chris, I'm trying to work things out with my mom, build a better relationship with her and all, but things are not exactly going the way I expected."

"And what did you expect, Timothée? Because if you thought she would change completely from day to night, then you made a fool of yourself on that one. She´s overprotective of you, she has been this way for the last fourteen years, you can´t simply change that in the snap of a finger."

"I am aware of that, Chris."

"Are you?"

"Yes, I am. I spent the last fourteen years avoiding anyone who wanted to get close to me, I know how hard it is to change things that have become a habit."

"So why are suddenly putting so much pressure on her? Most importantly, why are you choosing to cast her out of this new chapter of your life instead of including her and giving her the opportunity to prove to you that she is trying to change?"

"Ugh, you sound just like Armie."

"Then maybe you should stop for a minute and think about what we are saying, alright?"

"Look, you and Zoe have met her, alright? You guys know how she is, how easily she can get into overprotective mode and end up saying things that are not really cool. But Armie and his father? His friends? They are not used to that and I..."

"Is that it? You're scared of what Armie and his father will think of her?"

"Of course I am, Chris."

"Armie already knows about your mother and how complicated things can be between the two of you, Tim. And I am quite sure he simply wants to meet her, because he loves you and she´s an important part of your life."

Timothée buries his face in his hand, a loud sigh escaping him. He closes his eyes, takes a couple of deep breaths and then looks up at Chris again, biting his lip.

"This relationship is really important to me, Chris, I don´t want anything to jeopardize it."

"And you think your mom will?"

"My mom knows you and Zoe for six years and she still doesn´t trust you guys, do you really think she's just gonna accept Armie with open arms?"

"And what exactly do you plan on doing? Because the only way not to get her involved in this is by not telling her about him, which is twisted, mean and so not you."

"Of course I don´t plan on lying to her, but I also wanted to make sure she was better before...," he trails off, groaning before he lays his head down on the table, his hands into fists as he punches the leather seat. "I´m such a fucking idiot."

"Not an idiot," Chris reassures him. "Just a bit complicated."

Timothée raises his gaze, shooting a look at Chris, who shrugs. He sighs, sits back straight and rubs his hands against his jeans, his eyes wandering around the coffee shop. He spots a mother with her teenage daughter, both of them laughing as the girl shows her something on the phone.

"I must sound like a terrible son," he whispers. "I don't want to hurt her, Chris, but I also fear for the things she can say or do when she gets into her overprotective mode. I fear that she would get in between me and Armie, which I don't want to because I love him and I need him by my side if I´m going to try and get rid of all these scars from the past."

"I get it, okay? I have been a target of your mother and I know she can say some quite hurtful things, but I also know she thinks she is doing her best, that this is the only way to protect you. Maybe, it's time for you to show her that there are many other ways to protect someone and that she doesn't have to do it on her own. If you allow her to spend more time with us and Armie, she will eventually realize that we care about you just as much as she does."

"In other words, I should just suck it up and throw this dinner?"

"Yep. Not only because of that, but I get to see that hot friend of Armie´s again."

"What are you talking about?"

"The tall and nerdy brunette?"

"You got a thing for Taylor?"

"Yes, that's his name."

"He's straight, Chris."

"Well, I have had my share of straight guys, so I am not sure of what that is supposed to mean," he says as Timothée laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, at least I made you laugh."

"You always manage to, even when I'm on my bad moments."

"Yeah, such a bad moment you are going through, right? A hot, sexy, intelligent and caring boyfriend, that wants to get to know your family and your friends. Really, Timmy, how can you survive?"

"Damn, no need for that."

"I thought I was supposed to be the brutally honest friend, so I´m just doing my job here."

"You do it very well."

"I know," he smiles, leaning closer to Timothée. "Now, tell me more about the Taylor guy. I know he's rich….”

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"I can't believe your dad went back home," Taylor sighs, throwing himself down on the couch, a bottle of beer in his hands. "It was nice having him around the house."

"I tried to get him to stay a little bit longer, but he had made up his mind already. And I know my father can be quite stubborn, so I figured there was no reason to try and force him to stay."

Lee chuckles, placing his feet up on the coffee table. "At least we know where your stubbornness comes from."

"I'm not that stubborn."

"Yeah right," Taylor says in between chuckles. "When you get something in your head, it's practically impossible to get you to change your mind, Hammer. Remember back in college, when you decided to prank one of the teachers and no matter what we said, you wouldn't back down?"

"And that ended up with you having to clean up an entire floor of dorms?," Lee weights in, trying to keep himself from laughing. "We did warn you, but your stubborn ass kept saying it would all be alright and nothing would happen."

"Ugh, I still have nightmares over those dorms. College kids are just disgusting."

"If I remember correctly, your dorm wasn't exactly the cleanest one either."

"Yeah, but that's because I had to share it with you two motherfuckers."

"Excuse me?," Lee shakes his head. "My side of the room was always neat, you and Mr. Millionaire over there that did the dirty work."

Taylor shrugs, a cheeky grin on his face as Armie rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, you are stubborn and everyone knows it. Now, what about that dinner you were planning?"

Armie sighs, leaning his head back on the couch. "I don't know if I'm gonna be able to go through with that one."

"Why?"

"I can't get Timothée to agree with it and the idea was to have him bring his mom and friends to join us, you know? A chance for everyone to ge to know each other a little bit more, but he is not really keen in calling his mom."

Taylor frowns, turning to his side so he can look at Armie. "What's his deal with his mom?"

"She's overprotective and since his father left, I think she has fed this idea that she is the only one who knows what is best for Timothée. He says she can be a bit too much sometimes and while they are trying to work things out, I think he is scared of her making a scene or something."

"Families," Lee whispers, shaking his head. "Is there any family out there who doesn't have some weird or fucked up bits to it?"

"I don't think so," Taylor sighs. "I hope he changes his mind though, it would be nice to have everyone together, even if his friend kind of gives me the creeps."

Armie frowns. "Who are you talking about?"

"His friend, that Chris guy."

"What? Why?"

He shrugs. "Last weekend, when we went to that karaoke bar? He kept staring at me throughout the night, it was a little weird."

Armie bites his lip,trying to control himself, but ends up bursting into laughter shortly after.

"What's so funny?"

"I think he might have a crush on you."

"What?"

Armie nods. "Judging by how he spoke of you after we left the bar and the fact you're saying he kept staring at you, I can only assume you're his next prey."

"Next prey?," Taylor rolls his eyes. "I'm straight, Armie."

"Dude, it's the twenty-first century, maybe you should try new things out before saying that."

"What?"

"I mean, it won't kill you to just give it a try."

"Lee can give it a try, I am perfectly fine the way I am."

"I have already given it a try," he says as Taylor's eyes widen, making him chuckle. "What? My best friend in high school was a bisexual six foot giant who attracted a lot of attention, I took some advantage of that. Just didn't really connect with any of the guys I did try to go out with, so I just accepted my life as a straight man."

"How come am I just hearing about this story?," the boys shrug and Taylor shakes his head, looking over his shoulder as the doorbell rings. "Boyfriend alert, we better get the hell out of here, Lee."

Armie chuckles. "You guys don't have to leave just because he is here."

"I don't want to see you two sucking each other's faces," Lee says while making a disgusted face. "So we better get going."

Armie shrugs and gets up, walking over to the door with his friends following close behind. He opens it, a smile on his lips as he sees Timothée standing there, a paper bag on one hand.

"Hey there," he whispers, pulling him inside and pecking his lips.

"Hey," Timothée whispers back, his free hand sliding down Armie's chest. He pecks his lips again, then looks over his shoulder, waving. "Hey guys."

"Hello and goodbye," Taylor says, patting his back as he walks past them. "We were already on our way out, so you two can suck each other's faces with no problem."

Timothée chuckles, sliding a hand over Armie's waist as he watches his friends walk past the door.

"See you guys," Lee waves as they walk down the steps. "Don't be too loud, please, the neighbors are gonna start getting mad."

"Fuck off," Armie shouts, laughing as Lee flips him the bird. "I have crazy friends."

"A little bit crazy, but good people nonetheless."

"I guess you could say so," he turns to Timothée, pushing the door close as he leans down to kiss him, this time a proper, passionate kiss.

"I need to talk to you," Timothée whispers as they pull away, worry taking over his face, which makes Armie a bit confused.

"Is everything okay?"

"I suppose so, but I haven't been truly honest with you, so I think it's time we sit down and have a chat."

"Okay, I'm officially worried now."

Timothée bites his lip and takes Armie's hand, leading him to the living room, where he sits down on the couch and places the bag on the coffee table.

"I´ve been doing my best to avoid this dinner you wanna throw, just giving you random and very generic reasons on why I don´t want to, but I think it´s time I come clean with you."

"Tim..."

"Just let me say this, okay?," Armie nods, his hand resting on Timothée´s knee. "I talked to Chris this morning, some of the things he said paired with what you told me yesterday night, have made me think about this whole situation a little bit better. Armie, I never thought I would ever like someone the way I like you, I never thought I would be able to give myself to someone and let my walls down, but it happened and I treasure the relationship we are slowly building a lot."

Armie frowns, slightly confused, but remains in silence, allowing Timothée to talk things out.

"My mother is complicated and she can get quite intense sometimes, I have had some embarrassing moments with her throughout the years, but most of the time I managed to deal with it. The thing is, until months ago, I didn´t care if she would yell at me over the guys I slept with, or complain about people being good enough, because I didn´t really want to be with any of those people. I do want to be with you though and I am scared that she might do or say something that might jeopardize our relationship, okay? Not only that, Zoe and Chris are used to her by now, it's been six years and although she still doesn´t trust them, they have learned how to deal with her, but your dad...your friends? They don´t know her and..."

"I´m gonna stop you right here," Armie says while taking Timothée´s hand, a gentle smile on his face as he moves closer. "Timothée, are you scared of what my friends, my dad and I might think of her? Is that the problem?"

"The problem is that your friends and your father have welcomed me into their lives even after what I did to you, but I am afraid that my mom will never be able to do the same, because she still thinks she is the only one who can truly love and care about me. After my dad left, she put me on a bubble and sure, for a while I took advantage of that in a way. It was easier to get rid of people when my walls were up and she was there telling me they were not good enough, but now it´s different, because you are different."

"Okay, what I take from this is that you´re scared your mother might not accept me, but the truth is I couldn´t care less."

"What?"

"Timothée, you are the one I am dating, your opinion is the only one that matters to me. Look, if my dad didn´t like you, if Taylor was still mad, I still would choose to be with you, because I want to be with you. So, if the only problem here is what your mother might think of me, then you can chill out, because unless you tell me to, I am not going anywhere."

Timothée bites his lip, nodding his head slowly as Armie chuckles, embracing him in his arms. He sighs, burying his face into the crook of his neck and holding tight onto his shirt.

"I´m sorry for being so complicated."

"Oh for fuck´s sake," Armie shakes his head, lifting up his chin so they can look at each other´s eyes. "When will you understand that I like you no matter what? Have I not made it obvious yet? Do I need to shout it from the rooftops? Graffiti some walls, make a whole magazine article about you?"

Timothée chuckles, holding onto Armie´s arms. "You´re awesome. Thank you for being you."

"Thank you for talking to me, for being honest."

"I promised you I would be honest with you, tell you when I am feeling down or whatever. I am keeping my promise."

Armie nods and pulls Timothée with him while he lays down on the couch, his arms tightly wrapped around his body.


	38. Lucky Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World is fucked up, so have another chapter today, filled with domestic bliss and boys being stupid in love 😉

"Oh yeah," Timothée´s voice echoes in the quiet night, his little grunts becoming more frequent as he moves around the bed, fingers already sore from the repetitive moment of his hand. He bites his lip, tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes almost shut, only to have them go wide seconds later when he erupts in joy, throwing the console down as he stands up in the bed, fists up in the air and a smug grin upon his face.

He dances around, swings his head from side to side, sticks his ass up and jiggles in Armie´s face, a loud laugh escaping him when he reaches up and gives it a playful slap. Timothée turns around, sticks his tongue out to Armie and keeps on dancing, his curls bouncing all over the place.

Armie rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed by the sight and Timothée chuckles, falling to his knees, his hands sprawled on Armie´s chest for support. He leans closer, brushes their noses together, but moves back once Armie leans closer, trying to steal a kiss from him. He shakes his head, green eyes gleaming with joy as Armie holds onto his waist and pulls him closer, rolling them over on the bed afterwards.

Timothée squeals, holding tightly onto his shoulders, his legs immediately wrapped around Armie´s hips. He bites his lip, his cheeks becoming a dark crimson as Armie gazes down at him with adoration, a wide smile on his lips. To Timothée, the way he often finds Armie staring at him is disconcerning, but not because he doesn´t appreciate it, it´s simply because he doesn´t really know what to do with it.

He never expected someone to look at him the way Armie does, and he definitely didn´t expect to crave for such a look more and more as the days went by. To think that only three months ago Timothée was focused on dodging any possible relationships that came his way and now, well now he couldn´t get enough of Armie.

"What?"

"Nothing, I´m just happy I finally found something I beat you on."

"Don´t get cocky, alright? I am not on my best day, that's the only reason why you won."

"Oh really? That's the excuse you're gonna go with?"

"It's not an excuse. I simply wasn´t focused enough on the game, that's why you won."

"Of course," Timothée mocks, nodding his head slowly before stealing a quick kiss from Armie. He pushes him off of him, gets up and rushes over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. As he stares at himself in the mirror, fingers running through his hair, he hears the door open and chuckles, looking over his shoulder at Armie. "What? Couldn´t stay away from me?"

"Maybe," Armie says while he leans against the wall, arms crossed and a little smirk on his face. "Or maybe I just wanted to stand here and watch you."

"That´s creepy as fuck."

"Have you realized that you always find romantic things to be kind of creepy?"

"Nope," he shakes his head, walking over to him. "What I do realize is that you have an obsession with me, so you can´t go longer than a few minutes without staring at my beautiful face."

"Your face is beautiful."

"Thank you," he says with a wink, turning to walk back to the sink when Armie grabs his arm and pulls him back. He grunts as their bodies slam together, Armie´s large hands holding tightly onto his waist as he closes his eyes, moaning softly. "Why do I have a feeling you have something dirty in mind?"

"What? Like tearing off every single piece of clothing from your body and fucking you under the shower?"

Timothée bites his lip, his hands sneaking inside Armie´s shirt. "That actually sounds quite awesome.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Sunlight makes it through the large window, creating beautiful patterns on the floor, while on the bed Timothée groans, covering his eyes as he moves from side to side. He finds a position where he is comfortable and relaxes his body once again, a short sigh escaping him afterwards.

As he finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep, Timothée feels something move beside him and then a tickle under his chin, followed by something cold nuzzled against the crook of his neck. He smiles, eyes still close as he reaches out to hug Archie, who nestles himself against him.

Opening his eyes, Timothée runs his hand on his back, gently stroking it as the dog raises his head to look up at him. The past two weeks Timothée had gotten used to waking up with Archie by the foot of the bed, or even tangled in between their feet from time to time. As someone who had always wanted a dog, but never had the chance to get one, Timothée found himself getting more and more attached to the little creature as the days went by. The fact Archie was quite a chill dog helped a lot too.

"Good morning, buddy," he whispers, placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Where's your daddy, huh?,"

As Archie stands up on the bed, barking in the direction of the kitchen, Timothée chuckles, taking a seat in the bed. He inhales, smiling as he scents freshly brewed coffee, his stomach howling immediately. While focused on their little shenanigans the previous night, both him and Armie had totally forgotten about dinner, which now resulted in desperate hunger.

"C'mon boy," he takes Archie in his arms, laughing as he licks all over his face and walks over to the kitchen, setting him down on the floor before taking a seat in one of the stools. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Armie says over his shoulder while reaching for a mug in the hook by the sink, turning on his heels to hand it to Timothée, who smiles. He leans forward, hands sprawled on the counter as he tries to reach out for a kiss, only to have Timothée shake his head. "What? I've grown used to your breath in the morning already."

Timothée shoots him a glare, but can't help but smile once Armie laughs. "It's not that, Archie licked all over my face, it would be..."

Armie rolls his eyes, leaning in and placing a quick kiss on Timothée's lips anyway.

"Archie has licked my face too, so you have nothing to worry about."

"Idiot."

Armie shrugs, turns back to the stove and takes two toasts out of a frying pan, placing it on a plate along with eggs and bacon. He sets it down on the counter, hops on one of the stools and sighs, a yawn escaping him as he reaches for his mug of coffee.

"Any plans for today?"

Timothée crunches his nose, thinking for a moment before he shakes his head and stuffs his mouth with eggs. He looks over at Armie, who's got his eyes locked on him, biting hard on his lip as if trying to keep himself from laughing. He cocks an eyebrow in wonder, but smiles as Armie leans forward and swaps his finger across his lips, cleaning the corner of his mouth.

"You're lucky I find you so damn cute, cause you look like a fucking animal when you're eating."

"Excuse me?," he gasps as Armie chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, do you have plans for the day?"

"I do actually."

"Which is?"

"Finish breakfast and then take you out of this house so we can spend the day together, just the two of us."

"Oh," Timothée smiles, moving his fork around the plate. "That sounds great."

"Right?"

"And what exactly are we going to do?"

Armie shrugs. "I have absolutely no idea."

"Of course you don't," he chuckles. "How could I forget that you're the one who loves chaos."

"Hey..."

"There's beauty in chaos," he smirks as Armie stares back at him slightly surprised. "What? I remember everything."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie has his hands in his pockets as he walks down the street, the scenery changing as they get further away from his street. The houses are now slightly different, there are more colors around them and street art is a lot more predominant. He has his camera hanging from his shoulder, his blue eyes attentive to his surroundings as if not to miss anything.

In silence, Timothée walks beside him, his curls blowing with the wind as he wraps his arms above his chest, keeping his jacket close. He glances up at Armie from time to time, curious to know exactly where they are headed and why he wouldn't tell him anything about it. He notices a different kind of expression on his face, some sort of melancholy that fills his eyes and gets bigger with every step they take.

When Armie stops, his eyes on the small house that stands in front of him, he can't really contain his smile. He reaches for his camera, turns it on and aims it towards the house, snapping a couple of photos before turning it back off, his eyes moving down to Timothée, who simply observes him.

"Are you really just gonna stand there and pretend you're not dying to know why we are here?"

Timothée titters, tilting his head to the side. "Well, I was waiting to see if you would say anything."

Armie nods, turning back to the house as a sigh escapes him. "My mom grew up in this house."

"What?"

"Yeah. She lived here until she was fourteen, when she moved to Rhode Island with my grandparents."

He smiles, stealing a quick glance at Timothée, who now stares astonished at the house in front of them, almost as if he is watching history be written. Armie often feels the same when we walk past the house, the idea of his mother running around the backyard, her laughter echoing in the afternoon filling his head.

"The fact that for fourteen years my parents lived less than ten minutes away from one another and never met always intrigued me, you know? I often wonder if they ever crossed paths but were too busy looking somewhere else to notice one another. But then college came and after they saw each other for the first time, they were in love and stayed together for as long as life allowed them to."

Timothée smiles, a hand resting on Armie's back. "It wasn't the right time for them, that's why it took so long for them to meet."

"I suppose you're right."

"You know, it's interesting because...," as Armie looks down at him, eyebrows furrowed waiting for him to continue, Timothée smirks. "We don't live that far from one another either, yet it took us Zoe finding you through Instagram and having the idea to write about you to bring us together."

"Are you saying we are just like my parents?"

Timothée shrugs, sliding his hand to the back of Armie's neck. "I am saying that if we get to live half the life they lived together, we are gonna be quite lucky."

Armie nods, leans down and cradles Timothée's face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He tucks a curl behind his ear, his finger lingering on his cheek for a moment before he turns around, standing his hand out for him.

"C'mon, there are some other places I want you to see."

"And am I allowed to know exactly which places are these?"

"Nope."

"Ugh," Timothée groans, but chuckles as he rushes up to catch up to Armie, who keeps pulling on his arm. "You and your surprises." 

* * *

  
  
  


Prospect Park during Autumn had always been one of Timothée´s favorite destinations, the people, the cool breeze, the color of the leaves and flowers, it all made him feel like he was in a movie or a book, one of those which stimulate all your senses and leaves you hooked in every single phrase.

Being there with Armie for the first time felt even better, because now he had someone who seemed to understand exactly how much he loved the place. Armie observed things with a passionate eye, his photography skills urging him to look at things in a different way and Timothée absolutely loved to be the one hearing him talk about all the potential he saw around him.

He could hear him talk for hours and never get tired.

Covered by dark red and yellowish flowers, the ground under the bridge quickly sharpens Timothée´s attention and before they can even reach the middle of the tunnel, he has his phone in his hands, snapping some photos himself. He can feel Armie´s stare, his hot breathing against his neck as he looks over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.

"What? Scared I´m going to steal your job?"

"Not with those," Armie mocks as Timothée gasps. He shrugs, leans his chin on his shoulder and then holds Timothée´s hands in his, helping him frame the photo. "Try again now."

"My instagram feed is gonna be so much better now that I have my own personal photography teacher," Timothée mocks, although he knows the photo taken after Armie´s help looks insanely better than anything he had came up with before.

"And I promise I won´t overcharge you for the lessons."

Timothée chuckles and turns around, his arms wrapping around Armie´s neck. He stares at him for a few seconds, appreciating just how gorgeous he truly is, even more so when Timothée stops to think about the fact he doesn´t really use his looks for his own advantage. How did he get so lucky to find someone like Armie?

He leans on his tiptoes, grasping onto the collar of Armie´s jacket and brings their lips together, kissing him softly, their lips moving perfectly together. When he pulls away, Timothée keeps his eyes closed, his forehead pressed against Armie´s as he takes a deep breath.

"What?," Armie asks, holding tight onto his waist.

"Just appreciating the moment," he whispers back at him, finally opening his eyes. "You have a way of calming me down, which is still so confusing to me, but yet something I never want to give up on."

"And you don´t have to."

"I know."

He smiles up at Armie, plants yet another short kiss on his lips, but frowns once he pulls away and takes a few steps back. He sighs as he watches Armie reach for his camera, aiming it at his direction and snapping a couple of photos. He shakes his head, turns on his heels, but stops once his name is called.

"Whaaaat?," he says, pretending to be annoyed.

"Just stand still and look at me, will ya?"

"Nope."

"Timmy, c´mon."

"I really don´t know why you´re always taking photos of me," he whines while turning back around, glaring at Armie. "It´s ridiculous, really."

"You´re my muse, get over it."

Timothée laughs, shaking his head. "Your muse? I am your muse?"

"Who else would it be?," he shrugs, taking yet another step back. "Now, I have the perfect angle from here, so if you could just turn a little bit to your left and hold your jacket open, we could get this done way quicker."

"But..."

"The more you whine, the longer it will take."

"I fucking hate you."

"Yeah, I heard that before," Armie smiles, winking at him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie reaches up for his phone as soon as it lights up, checking on the messages that keep on coming second after second. He chuckles, types something in reply and sends it, his eyes wandering around the restaurant for a brief second before turning back to the phone in his hand. He reaches for his glass, takes a sip of wine and then laughs, shaking his head as he sees Taylor's message.

"What's on that phone that is so amusing to you, huh?"

He raises his gaze to find Timothée sitting back down, cocked eyebrows and a little smile on the corner of his lip.

"I was texting the guys, Taylor is planning a camping trip and won't stop texting us."

"He's planning what?"

Armie chuckles at the expression on Timothée's face, reaching out to hold his hand, which he strokes gently. "You can calm down, alright? I already told them you are not going on the trip."

"Thank God."

Armie smiles for a moment, but his expression quickly changes to a more concerned one. He sighs, bites his lip and leans back down on his chair, examining Timothée's face.

"What? Why are you looking at me like this?"

"There's something I've been wondering for a while now and I didn't want to ask because I know how delicate the subject can be, but I'm afraid I can't hold myself back any longer."

Timothée frowns, slightly confused. "Okay, what is it?"

"What's the deal with the whole camping hate you got, huh? Because although you don't talk much about it, I remember you mentioned your father was a really big adventure guy and he liked to be out in nature. So I was wondering, is this hate of yours because you're truly not a nature kind of guy, or is it because it reminds you of him?"

There's a minute in which Timothée simply stares at Armie, biting his lip so hard it swiftly becomes pale. He then sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he shrugs.

"I suppose it's a little bit of both. I mean, I was never a nature kind of person, but everytime my father went hiking or camping, he would take me with him. I tried very hard to get used to the whole thing, like it even, but it never happened and with time he stopped taking me with him. I guess he wanted a kid that shared more of his interests."

"Okay, I'm not gonna let you do this," Armie quickly says as Timothée looks down. "Timothée, you're not the reason why your father left, alright? You and your mother are not responsible for his decisions and actions, he's the only one to blame."

"Oh trust me, I put a lot of blame on him."

"But you still project some of it into yourself and you shouldn't, because you're the nicest, most intelligent man I ever met and he should be ashamed for neglecting you all these years."

Timothée looks back up at him, a gentle smile on his face.

"I know you keep track of him, has he ever came to New York after he left?"

"Not that I know of," he shrugs. "But I've only started tracking him about two or three years ago, so if he did it was probably before that. And I must say, I stopped doing that after everything happened between us. I was already going through a hard time blaming myself for the things I put you through, having news of him and his perfect family popping up in my emails wasn't doing me any good, so I gave up."

"I gotta say, I think you did the right thing," he squeezes Timothée's hand. "I have one more question though."

"What?"

"If he did show up, would you talk to him?"

"Honestly?," he asks as Armie nods. "I have no idea what I would do."

"Understandable."

"The truth is, he hurt me more than anyone else in the world will probably ever do it, but as of right now I don't even know him anymore. Maybe if we ever meet again, we will have a chance to sit down and make things better, or maybe the pain will get even worse. Either way, I don't know if there's even a chance of happening."

"Well, you don't need him anyway. Complicated or not, you have a great mother by your side, who did all she could to give you the life you deserved."

Timothée nods, intertwining his fingers with Armie's. "I guess you're right."

"I am, trust me."

"Thank you."

"Another question..."

"Oh my God. I thought I was supposed to be the one who never kept quiet."

"Is the last one, I promise."

"Fine, what is it?"

"Has your mother answered your text about dinner? Can she make it?"

Timothée sighs, reaches for his glass and takes a couple of sips.

"Timmy?"

"Yes, she answered. Said she's available next weekend and that she's looking forward to meeting you."

"Great, I'm looking forward to meeting her too."

"Let's hope this all goes out well."

"Stop being so pessimistic, Tim."

"Not being pessimistic, just preparing myself for the worse, so I can be pleasantly surprised when everything goes okay."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls Timothée closer, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The television remains on although no one has even glimpsed at it in the past ten minutes, their minds, bodies and eyes way too focused on each other to even remember the device remains on. And while Robert DeNiro recites his famous  _ are you looking at me? _ phrase in Taxi Driver, Armie hovers on top of Timothée on the couch, a hand gently resting on the side of his face, his thumb brushing against his cheek, while the other holds tight onto his waist, keeping him in place even if he knows there is absolutely no way Timothée would leave.

With his right leg nestled in between Timothée´s, Armie pressed his thigh against his crotch, smirking at the low moans that echo afterwards. He sucks on his tongue, bites softly on his bottom lip and when his hand slides down to Timothée´s neck, his thumb pressing against his Adam´s apple, he can feel his whole body shudder underneath him.

One of the many things that drive Armie crazy, is just how pliant Timothée can go under his touch when they are making out or having sex, which is the complete opposite of him in general life. All his walls come down when it's just the two of them, in the most intimate of moments and Armie absolutely loves to be the cause of such a thing.

Feeling Timothée´s fingers run down his short hair, Armie presses his leg even closer to his crotch, feeling the hard on that starts to form under his jeans. He runs a hand inside his shirt, the warmth and smoothness of his skin driving him wild. He buries his face in the crook of his neck, bites and sucks on the sensitive skin, leaning a hickey that Timothée sure will have a hard time hiding from people. He will definitely complain about this later on.

As Timothée´s hands travel down his back and over to his ass, squeezing them softly while bringing him closer, Armie lets out his own moans, feeling his cock start to leak inside the confines of his pants. He reaches out to unzip his jeans, but stops when Timothée´s phone vibrates in the coffee table, breaking away the spell that had surrounded them.

He looks down at Timothée, then glances at the phone before turning back to him, who´s bitting his lip, his cheeks flushed and his curls a pure mess.

"You don't have to take that."

"Let me just see what it is."

"Why?"

"It could be important, Armie."

"I hardly doubt."

"Can I at least check it?," he chuckles.

Armie groans, burying his face in his neck once again while sticking his arm out to grab the phone, handing it to Timothée, who laughs, his fingers gently stroking his back.

"Who's the asshole?"

Timothée tries to hold back a laugh, but fails, slapping Armie´s ass when he bites on his shoulder.

"It´s Chris, he wants to know if we would like to join him and Zoe at a Halloween party."

"Halloween party?," Armie wonders, leaning on his elbows so he can look down at Timothée. "Where?"

"This bar close to my apartment."

"Do we need costumes?"

"I don´t think so, their parties are usually quite chill."

"That could be fun actually," he pouts, tilting his head to the side.

"Still think he´s an asshole for interrupting us?"

"Absolutely," he replies quickly, pecking Timothée´s lips before sitting down on the couch. "So, you wanna go?"

"I think it could be fun."

"Okay then, I´ll text the guys, see if they want to join us."

"And when we´re back home," Timothée smirks, squeezing Armie´s cock through his pants. "Then we can go back from where we stopped."

"Is that a promise?"

"You bet."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The music is loud, the band playing with all their vigor as a crowd gathers in front of the small stage, which is heavily decorated with bats, spiderwebs, fake blood and vampire fangs. Leaned against the wooden bar, Chris has a drink on his hand, his eyes locked on Zoe as she dances with her new boyfriend, a large smile on her face as she moves her body from side to side.

He glances around the place, his head bobbing to the rhythm of the drums when he spots Timothée and Armie making their way over to him. He smiles, arms wide open to engulf Armie in a tight hug, his fingers gently stroking his nape.

"Hey there, Chris."

"Hey, gorgeous."

Armie simply chuckles, shaking his head.

"Where´s everyone?"

"Well," Chris sighs, wrapping an arm around Armie´s shoulder, keeping him close while he uses his free hand to gesture to the bartender. "Zoe and Max are dancing, Lee just headed to the bathroom and Taylor went after this random chick."

"Sorry, bro," Timothée says, making a face as Chris rolls his eyes. "What? You´re the one who said he was sexy and all."

"And annoyingly straight it seems," he complains as Armie chuckles, nodding his head.

"Isn´t it? I tried to get into his pants too, but couldn´t succeed."

"If you, with that gorgeous face of yours couldn´t turn him, I might as well give up."

"Never give up, my friend," Armie winks, smiling over at the bartender as he hands them a couple of drinks. "Thanks, man."

"Now, why took you too so long to get here?"

"Well, someone wanted to stop home to change clothes."

"I can´t believe you actually expected me to come here with the clothes I´ve been wearing since yesterday night."

"Oh no, I knew for sure you would want to get changed, I just didn´t expect you to take a whole goddamn hour to choose something to put it on."

Chris scoffs, patting Armie´s shoulder. "One hour? I´ve seated and waited for two and half hours while he stared into the hack he calls a closet, okay? You´ve been dating this one for less than a month, you haven´t seen shit yet."

"I think you´ve drank too much already," Timothée whines as Chris sticks his tongue out. "Or I should have followed my instincts and kept you two away from one another."

"I would have gone rogue and met him anyway," Chris says with a smirk. He turns to Armie, a sweet smile on his lips as he cradles his face, his thumb gently stroking his cheek. "Wouldn´t you have done the same, gorgeous?"

"Anything for you, Chris."

"See?"

Timothée rolls his eyes, but ends up laughing anyway. He pushes Chris away, takes Armie´s hand in his and pulls him to the dance floor, twirling around to face him. He chuckles, an arm wrapped around Armie´s neck as they move from side to side, following the beat of drums.

"Has Chris always been like this?," Armie half shouts, leaning closer so Timothée can hear him.

"Loud and lavish?," he asks with a chuckle. "Yes, he has always been like this. But as you´ve heard me say before, he also knows when to get serious."

"I see why you´re friends with him and Zoe. They balance out your personality quite well, I guess you make a good group."

"Well, your friends are not so bad either."

"Have I heard that right?," Lee shouts while wrapping his arms around them, a lazy and clearly drunk smile on his lips. "You said we´re not bad? And here I was, thinking this little one was already my second best friend, when in reality I´m just not that bad."

Timothée chuckles. "No no no, I love you very much, Lee."

"I know, everyone loves me."

"How much did you guys drink before we got here?," Armie asks between chuckles, unable to contain himself as he watches his friend, who is usually a lot quieter, move his body around.

"I would say it was a lot."

"I don´t think it was enough," Lee complains. "Actually, I think I´m gonna go get myself another beer. Don´t go anywhere, you two."

"We´ll be right here," Armie shouts, before turning to Timothée with wide eyes. He shakes his head, wraps both his arms around his waist and brings him closer, his nose brushing against his jaw before he plants a kiss on his neck.

Timothée smiles, closes his eyes and grips onto Armie´s hair, their bodies moving together to the rhythm of the song while sharing sweet and short kisses.

* * *

  
  
  
  


They stumble inside the apartment in between chuckles and moans, feet tangled up and nearly bringing them down to the floor. All the alcohol consumed during the night had finally hit them, but they were still sober enough to know exactly how they wanted the night to end. Their shoes are kicked to the ground only seconds after the door closes, their shirts and jackets following suit, all the while they try to make it to the couch without any injuries.

Armie is the one who stumbles down first, with Timothée falling right on his lap, legs spread open and arms wrapped around his shoulder, his fingertips teasingly playing with the hair on his nape. Soft moans echo as they press their cocks together, their lips moving together in a messy and desperate kiss.

Breaking the kiss only to attach his mouth to Armie's neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and earning a few grunts in return, Timothée slides his hand down his chest, hooking his fingers onto his chest hair before tugging onto his pants. He doesn't know if such a thing exists, but if there was a record for fastest unzipping of jeans while drunk, Timothée is certain that he would take the prize home.

Moving onto his knees on the floor, he tugs on Armie's jeans, struggling to pull them off. Armie chuckles, but raises his ass from the couch, allowing Timothée to push the pants off completely, nearly falling backwards while doing so. He bites his lip, hands squirming up Armie's hairy thighs, his nails scraping the skin from time to time, while his eyes remain focused on only one thing.

Armie grunts, his stomach doing cartwheels as he watches Timothée inch closer to his cock, his shiny lips parting to take him in. He sighs, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head when he feels the warmness of Timothée's mouth around his hard cock, sucking him in earnest. He forces his eyes open, his large hand resting on top of his head, not pushing nor guiding him, just resting there, desperate for any type of touch he can get.

He moans his name softly, gently starts to move his hips upwards, watching as Timothée's cheeks get puffed and spit starts to slide from the corner of his lips. The sight is the most erotic thing he can imagine, the way Timothée doesn't rest until he is throbbing inside his wet mouth mind blowing. When Timothée finally pulls his dick out, smearing his precum all over his swollen lips, Armie has to blink a couple of times, his eyes glazed over.

"I believe I was promised a little treat today?," he practically whispers, adjusting himself on the ground while lifting up Armie's legs.

"Oh fuck," Armie breaths out, arms immediately hooking onto the back of his knee as Timothée leans closer, planting wet kisses in his inner thighs, forcing his whole body to tremble.

Timothée smirks, always eager to see Armie lose himself in his touch. He blows against his hole, which flicks back at him, clearly anticipating his next move. Slowly, Timothée drags his tongue all the way from Armie's puckered hole to the base of his balls, holding tight onto his thighs and keeping him open for him. He swirls his tongue around the rim, teases the hell out of Armie until he is a mess underneath him, thrashing around the couch, moaning his name repeatedly and quietly asking for more.

When Timothée moves away, his hands traveling all over his body, Armie opens his eyes again, staring right back into his as they fall back on the couch. He adjusts himself, reaches in between to grab at Timothée's cock and guides him inside his hole, rubbing the tip against his entrance for a moment before letting it slide in. He grunts, throws his head back and sinks his nails into Timothée's asscheeks, moving his hips in rhythm with his as he starts thrusting into him.


	39. (Not So) Out Of The Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The romantic

Timothée softly purrs, his face buried in the crook of Armie's neck while he runs his fingertips up and down his stomach, his index finger circling his belly button before moving over to his hip bone. His legs are tangled in his, the contrast of their skin tone and size always causing him to feel butterflies in his stomach. It may sound silly, even weird to some people, but their contrast is one of the things Timothée finds most sexy about their relationship.

He closes his eyes, takes in a breath and smiles as Armie's scent fills his nostrils, an inebriating mix of soap, beard lotion and his natural musk, which honestly is the best of it all. He sighs at the realization he has to get up eventually, another day of work awaits him and he has a lot to deal with Zoe, prepare his material for the new issue of the magazine, a meeting with the rest of the staff to discuss the preparations for the magazine's four year anniversary. But if he could, if the possibility was at all on the table, he would simply ditch everything behind and stay lying there for the rest of the day, maybe even the week.

Opening his eyes, Timothée raises his gaze to meet Armie, who stares down at him with a soft smile on his lips. His eyes give away the fact he would rather be asleep for a little longer, his short hair a bit of a mess, but Timothée absolutely loves the sight. He winks at him, leans on his elbow so he can reach further up and kisses him softly, smiling through the kiss as Armie's large hands rest on the small of his back. He touches his face, his beard tickling the soft skin of his palm and around his lips, a feeling Timothée had always loved, but that with Armie has a straight connection to his dick.

He pulls away, licking his lips and staring down at Armie, in his eyes a glow that is different from everything else. He never felt so connected with someone, something that leaves him carefree and disconnected from the outside world. When they are like these, it seems like the world has stopped turning and they are all there is left: just the two of them, inside Armie's house, being themselves.

He takes a peek at the clock by the bedside table and his eyes widen, cursing under his breath as he pulls himself away from Armie and jumps up, reaching for his clothes in the ground as he rushes his way to the bathroom.

"Calm down," Armie chuckles, watching him from the bed. "Clumsy as you are, you're gonna end falling."

"I can't calm down," he shouts, poking his head out of the bathroom, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. "I have fifteen minutes to make it to the magazine."

"I'm sure Zoe will understand if you are a few minutes late, Tim."

"You don't get it," he shouts once again, turning on the shower as he pushes his boxers down to the ground. "We have a shit load of work to do today and I promised her I'd be there in time so we can get as much of it down before lunch."

"Is all this extra work you're doing this week something to do with the magazine's anniversary?"

"Yeah," he closes his eyes, the water running down his body. "We want to make sure the party perfectly represents the four years of the magazine, as well as everyone who collaborated with us throughout the years."

"Am I going to be part of it then?"

"But of course you are," he says while stepping out of the bathroom, boxers on and a towel drying up his hair. "You are the star of the magazine's most popular article to date, I say you are the guest of honor."

"That was the quickest shower in history."

Timothée rolls his eyes, tossing the towel over to Armie, who grabs it in his hand before it can hit him in the face, a chuckle escaping him afterwards.

"What part of  _ I am late _ you don't get it, Hammer?"

"The part where instead of getting dressed, you're standing half naked in front of me. Are you unaware of the fact I am seconds away from taking you in my arms and pinning you down on the bed?"

Timothée bites his lip, his face contorting in a dozen different expressions. He would absolutely love to have Armie pin him down on the bed and just havish him, but sadly that will have to wait.

"Sorry, can't do it," he pouts, reaching for the clean clothes he left on the armchair the previous night. "Although your offer is nearly irrefutable."

"Meet you for lunch then?"

"Don't you have a photoshoot with Scarlett?"

"Yes, but I'm pretty sure I'll be done by one o'clock."

Timothée sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed to tie up his boots. "I wish I could, but I doubt we will even make it out of the office today, but I will run back here as soon as I leave the magazine, alright?"

"Alright," Armie whispers against his ear, hands holding onto his waist as he plants a kiss on his neck.

"I gotta go now," he quickly says, turning to place a kiss on Armie's lips. He winks at him, pushes himself up and reaches for his bag, rushing around the house as quickly as he can. He kneels down to pet Archie, grabs the water flask he left in the fridge the night before and fumbles with the keys for a moment, a loud sigh escaping him when he finally manages to open the door.

"Be careful."

"I will be."

"Goodbye."

"Bye, I love you."

And it's only when the door closes with a thud behind him that Timothée stops, eyes wide open.  _ What the fuck have you just said? _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Armie watches through the camera lens as the wind blows on the model's hair, her blonde locks covering part of her face while she stares back at him, the intensity in her eyes perfectly cohesive with the idea of the shot. He snaps a couple of photos, a timid smile on the corner of his lips as he pulls the camera down and analyses the last set, nodding to himself as he finds some photos that really do highlight the model and the outfit´s beauty.

He gestures to Scarlett to join him and hands her the camera, watching silently as she goes through the exact same photos he has just seen, the expression on her face one he knows very well. The greatest thing about working with people you know, is that you don´t really need much to understand exactly what they are thinking or feeling. And after knowing Scarlett for a little over six years, he can tell right away that she is as pleased as him with the photos.

"Okay, I think we are ready for the next outfit," she says while handling the camera back to Armie, gesturing for the model to follow her.

Armie watches them disappear into the small tent they set up near the equipment, then takes a seat on the nearest bench, reaching for his phone. He sighs, noticing there is nothing from Timothée there, which was to be expected, but still leaves him a bit uneasy. Maybe he should text him, ask him how the day is going and if him and Zoe might need anything.

"Are you alright?"

Armie raises his gaze, an eyebrow cocked as Scarlett sits beside him, her legs crossed and her bright red lips curved into a small smile.

"You are strangely quiet today," she adds up. "Did something happen between you and Timothée?"

"Not really," he says, although he isn´t entirely sure that is the right answer. "I mean, he did say he loved me this morning."

"Okay. That is usually a good thing to hear, so why do you look worried?"

"Because knowing Timothée as well as I do, I know for sure that he is probably freaking out right now. I mean, I can´t even begin to tell you the amount of things that must be going through his head right now, from calling himself crazy to being anxious over the fact I might be ignoring him from now on."

"He is a complicated one, isn´t him?"

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "And strangely enough, it's one of the reasons why I love him so much. He is flawed, but he doesn´t hide it, he doesn´t try to be someone he is not, he admits his struggles and tries his best to get around them."

"Well, after hearing all of that, I am sure you are gonna find a way to make him feel better about this whole thing. If he is actually struggling with the fact he said it, as you think he is."

"Trust me, he is. It wasn´t a romantic moment where we both shared the words, you know? He was leaving my house and it slipped out of him, I doubt he was playing to say it anytime soon."

"I´m no expert in love, to be quite honest, but I have a feeling that makes things even better. I mean, he loves you so much that the words simply escape him, he has no control over himself around you."

"I think that's something he's been struggling with since we met. For some reason it was always easy for him to confide in me, even things he barely talked to his friends. I could tell it scared him in the beginning and I can tell that it's still something he doesn´t quite understand, but he is going with it anyway."

"Look, I don´t know Timothée as well as you do obviously, but may I give you advice based on what you just told me?"

Armie nods, eyes locked on Scarlett.

“If what you told me is true, then yes, he might be freaking out a little bit, but by now he knows you have his back and that he can trust you. So, maybe you should just give him some space, don't make a big deal out of this and if he does show any interest in talking about it, then you do it. If he really is anxious as you think he is, trying to force a conversation about the subject might make it worse."

Armie frowns, biting on his lip as he replays Scarlett´s words in his head. She does have a point, poking Timothée, trying to get them to talk about the situation might make him uncomfortable and since he is already busy with work and planning dinner, he figures this is something they can leave for another time.

"I guess it could work."

"I´m glad I could help somehow," she smiles, patting his knee. "I´m gonna go check on our model, but I will be right back."

"It´s okay, take your time."

Scarlett nods and Armie smiles, leaning back on the bench as he looks around the park. He checks his phone once again, turns it off and places it on his back pocket, focusing his mind on the work he has to do right now.

Later, after Timothée is done with work, he will make sure to take his mind off of any stupid thing he might be thinking.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée sighs, swirls around on his chair and crosses his arms, staring out of the window at the city below him. He can´t stop thinking about what happened earlier that day, the way the words simply slipped out of his lips like they meant nothing.

Except they meant way too much.

He loved Armie, that was a fact he had accepted the moment he ran over to meet him in Scarsdale, when he heard about his mother´s death and felt like a piece of himself had been broken. He never met the woman, never heard her voice and yet, knowing Armie had lost her made him feel like he had lost someone important too.

Back then he couldn´t quite wrap his head around why he would feel this way, but as the days went by, as him and Armie made amends and started out a real and serious relationship, Timothée understood what everything meant. Armie was such an important part of his life, whatever happened with him had an influence on him as well.

Still, saying those words out of the blue felt strange and complicated. They had been together for only a month and no matter how great their relationship was, how attentive Armie was towards him, it was way too soon to do something like that. He felt reckless, hasty and most importantly, he wondered how the hell Armie was feeling with this whole thing.

Was he okay? Was he freaking out? Could he somehow think Timothée didn´t mean what he said? He needed to talk to him, but every single time he grabbed his phone to text him, words failed him and he was left staring at the screen, his brain seeming to have gone into short-circuit.

"Good afternoon, everyone."

Chris´s loud voice catches Timothée´s attention and he slowly turns around on his chair, a frown as he watches his friend march his way over to him, two cups of coffee on his hands and a large grin on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I finished work and needed to get out of the apartment for a while, get some fresh air and all that shit, so I took a walk and ended up nearby," he shrugs, taking a seat on top of Timothée´s desk. "And since I was coming here, I figured it was only fair to make a quick stop at La Cafeteria and bring you your favorite coffee."

Timothée smiles, taking the cup in his hands and sipping on it carefully, the hot liquid warming him up. "Thank you, I needed this."

Chris frowns, sensing something on the tone of his voice. "You sound weird, what is going on?"

"Nothing much."

"You do know I can sit here and ramble my ass off until you actually find the guts to talk to me. I say we go the short route and you just tell me whatever is bugging you, it will save us both a lot of time."

"I told Armie that I loved him," he blurts out, watching as Chris´s eyes go wide. "Yeah, that´s the face I made too."

"I wasn´t expecting that, to be completely honest."

"Trust me, neither was I."

"How did it happen?"

Timothée breaths out, shrugging his shoulders. "I was in a rush to come to work, running around the house like a mad man and by the time I made it through the door, I was shouting at him."

Chris narrows his eyes, his finger tracing the brim of the glass. "Wait, are you telling me that you simply shouted that you loved him and then came to work as if nothing had happened?"

"That´s exactly what I did."

"So he didn´t even get a chance to say anything back?"

"He´s probably just freaking out wherever he is, thinking of the crazy guy he chose to date," he says in between chuckles, although is clear they are a bit hysterical. "I mean, who the fuck says I love you after a month of dating, Chris? What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"There´s nothing wrong with you, Tim."

"I said I loved him."

"And you do love him, don´t you?"

"Yes, but that´s not the case here."

Chris laughs, shaking his head. "That is the case, Timothée. You love him and you love him so much that you couldn´t even contain yourself, you had to say it somehow. And sure, it is a bit soon, but I know for sure that Armie doesn´t think you´re crazy just because of it."

"That´s why he is silent ever since? Not a text or call, absolutely nothing."

"Have you called or texted him?"

Timothée bites his lip, scratching the back of his neck.

"Timothée, have you called or texted him?"

"No, I haven´t, but it´s only because I have absolutely no idea of what to say to him."

"Gosh, you´re so fucking weird."

"Hey!"

"Listen to me, you´ve said it already, so I say you quit the whole shame thing and just own it."

"What if he doesn´t feel the same? Is gonna be weird as fuck."

"What if he doesn´t feel the same?," Chris echoes, while rolling his eyes. "Are you fucking blind? Have you seen the way that man looks at you, Tim? He absolutely loves you and has probably shown it in a million different ways ever since you guys got together, because trust me, before this morning when you let it slip through your lips, I am sure you had already done things that made him sure you loved him."

"You think so?"

"I´m sure so."

Timothée bites his lip, his hands holding tightly onto the cup of coffee as he thinks about what Chris has just said. Maybe he doesn´t need to worry too much, maybe everything will be alright.

  
  
  


* * *

Armie tries to fix the strap of his camera bag over his shoulder as he fumbles with the keys, the grocery bags on his hands turning everything into a much more difficult task than it should be. He puffs out some air, shoulders relaxing once he is inside the house, closing the door with his feet. He smiles down at Archie, who peacefully sleeps next to the couch and places his camera bag on the coffee table, before heading over to the kitchen, where he places the bags down on the counter.

He unpacks everything, placing some stuff on the cupboard, while others remain on the counter separated. He turns on his phone, checking on some of the recipes he searched for a few hours earlier and smiles to himself. He wonders how Timothée is dealing with the whole  _ I love you _ thing, if he is still freaking out or if he managed to get some peace of mind, but either way he knows Scarlett was right and forcing a conversation over it isn´t the best thing to do.

So in that case, a homemade meal with some expensive wine and a good movie will have to do it.

He sets his phone down and rushes to wash his hands, but stops once the phone starts vibrating on the counter. He frowns, takes a few steps back and smiles as he sees his father´s name light up the screen. He slides his finger across the screen, presses the loudspeaker icon and hears his father´s voice fill up the entire kitchen.

"Hey there, kiddo."

"Hey, dad, how are you?"

"Tired as hell, but holding on."

"Why are you so tired?"

"Oh, I have been cleaning the house ever since I came back home. There´s a lot to do around here, also a lot of things to decide and look at, so it´s been a bit exhausting."

"Dad, why didn´t you tell me this earlier? I would have gone there over the weekend to help you out."

"Armand, I don´t want you here every weekend to check on me. I am a grown man and even if I am going through a difficult moment, I can still take care of myself."

"I'm perfectly aware that you can take care of yourself, dad, but that doesn´t mean I can´t help you."

Armie sighs, washes his hands and reaches for a knife, setting it down on the counter before he starts chopping some onions.

"And if I do need any help, I will make sure to call you, but for now I can handle this on my own."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," there´s a pause on the other side of the line. "What the hell are you doing?"

Armie chuckles. "Chopping onions. I am going to prepare a little fancy dinner for Timothée and I."

"Oh, what is the occasion?"

"Nothing special, just felt like doing something for him."

"Never thought my son was such a romantic."

"Well, what can I say? I know how to please the people I love."

"Yes, you do," Paul agrees, before letting out a sigh. "Son, I actually called because I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"I have gone through some of your mother´s stuff and I am separating some things to give it to charity, but I was wondering if there is anything of hers you´d like to keep."

Armie stops immediately, the knife tumbling to the counter as he stares into space. It had been a whole month since his mother passed away, he had slowly learned how to deal with her loss, with the mix of pain and joy that came whenever he thought about her, but he had absolutely forgotten about the fact they would need to do something about her belongings. And now here he was, being asked a question he never thought he would have to answer.

"Armand?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay, son?"

"Yes, I´m alright, I just never...," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I never really stopped to think about this, dad."

"Hey, it's okay, you don´t have to decide anything right now. Just call me or text me whatever you´d like and I will take it with me on Saturday."

Armie nods, biting so hard on his lip he can almost taste blood. He closes his eyes for a brief second and then sighs, trying to get back to normal.

"Yeah, I will do that."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée stops by the sidewalk, hands rubbing against his jeans as he stares at the house in front of him. He stopped by his place after work, took a shower, checked his emails and grabbed some clean clothes to take with him, sat on the couch for a couple of minutes until he got the strength to move his ass up and head off to Armie´s house.

His conversation with Chris had helped him a lot, eased his anxiety as the day went by, but it didn´t mean he wasn´t yet conflicted about things. He had said  _ I love you _ after dating for only a month and while Armie was probably the nicest, most humane guy he ever went out with, that was still a lot to take in. He couldn´t help but wonder how he had reacted to it, the exact thought that went through his head the minute he heard those three little words.

_ You are about to find out _ , he tells himself when he finally takes the first step in the house´s direction, his anxiety kicking in once again with every passing second while he reaches for his back pocket, grabbing the keys to open the front door.

He stops the second he steps inside though, a frown forming on his face as he analyses the scene he just walked into. The house lights are dimmed low, there´s music playing and the living room coffee table is now set for dinner, wine glasses, fancy napkins and all of that. Standing by the couch with a small smile on his lips is Armie, barefoot, wearing jeans and the knitted beige sweater Timothée bought him about a week ago.

He bites his lip, a mix of emotions taking him over as he processes what is happening. While he was out there, going crazy over what he had said, Armie was here, cooking them dinner and setting up something straight out of a romantic film for them. He couldn´t even begin to express what he was feeling, but his sweaty hands and pounding heart were an indication of how emotional the whole thing was.

_ And you thought you could never be the romantic type _ , he thinks to himself as he takes a few steps closer to Armie, an inquisitive expression on his face. When Armie simply shrugs, gesturing to the table, Timothée nods slowly and follows his movements, sitting cross legged on the ground. With only the table separating them, Timothée realizes just how gorgeous Armie looks, his hair freshly cut, his beard trimmed and the candle light bringing a different glow to his eyes.

"May I ask what is this all about?," Timothée finally manages to say.

"We´ve been working quite a lot the past few days, I know you´re specially busy with the magazine and planning our parents dinner, so I thought it would be nice to do something different for a change. Just you and me, a nice homemade dinner, some candles and a very expensive bottle of wine."

"All of this just so we could have a different night?," Timothée ponders, slightly confused by the whole thing, but nonetheless fascinated with Armie´s ability to surprise him. "That seems a bit extra, Hammer, even for you."

"I thought you would be impressed."

"Oh, I am impressed, trust me."

Armie smiles, reaches for the bottle of wine and opens it, pouring a glass for each one of them. Timothée watches the whole thing in silence, his whole body tingling in excitement, but his mind still going crazy. He takes a breath, waits until Armie´s gaze finally meets his and gathers all the strength left in him to go on. He has already made a fool of himself earlier in the morning, might as well just get it all over with.

"Armie, we need to talk about what happened this morning."

"What happened this morning?"

Timothée frowns. Is there a chance that Armie didn´t hear him? Of course not, he shouted loud enough for even the neighbors to do so.

"This morning, when I was about to leave the house and said that I..."

"That you loved me?," Armie half asks, finishing the phrase for Timothée, who sighs, nodding his head slowly. "Yeah, I heard that."

"And you were planning on keeping quiet?"

"I know you enough to know that you´ve probably spent the whole day questioning yourself about the whole thing, freaking out over saying it so randomly and wondering what I was thinking of it."

Timothée can feel himself blush. Is he that transparent after all?

"But then I thought it would be best to leave it alone, only talk about it if you showed any interest in doing so. And to take your mind off of it, I decided a nice change of habit could be fun, so I prepared dinner and went a little extra with the candles and all that shit."

Timothée chuckles, burying his face in his hands for a moment, before he looks back at Armie, pure joy in his eyes.

"So you´re not freaked out about the whole thing?"

Armie shakes his head, leaning closer so he can take Timothée´s hands in his.

"Timothée, I know we´ve only been dating for a month and that it feels really soon and maybe even scary to say those things right now, but the truth is our story started three months ago when we met at the Black Brick. Besides, if you love me enough to simply let it slip like that, I should feel like the luckiest man in the world, which I am because I have the man I love beside me."

Timothée can´t utter a word, goosebumps all over his body as he listens to Armie say those things. How he managed to get someone like him is beyond him.

"So you," he stammers when he finally manages to say something. "You love..."

"I love you too, yeah, that´s what you heard."

"Couldn´t you have said that earlier and spared me all this angst?," he finally blurts out, making Armie laugh.


	40. One Hell Of An Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voodoo of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten more chapters to go, still a few things to unpack....can you guess what?

Armie has his head leaned back against the bedpost, his legs spread wide on the bed while he holds tight on Timothée's waist, keeping his body close to his while they share a deep and hungry kiss, their lips moving together in perfect harmony. He moves slightly, accommodating Timothée, who straddles him, his soft hands sprawled on his chest.

The bed sheets are all over the place, tangled on their legs and falling down the sides of the bed, a glimpse of the mess they did the previous night. With each passing day, Armie could feel their relationship growing stronger, Timothée's trust in him something that allowed them to have deeper and even more meaningful conversations than before. He wasn't scared to share anything now, which resulted in Armie being able to properly help him make it through all the insecurities that still consumed him.

With a smile, Armie slides his hands down to Timothée's thighs, squeezing it softly until he draws out a low moan from him. He smirks, grabs his chin and tilts his head back, kissing and sucking on his jaw and Adam's apple. When he feels Timothée tremble on top of him, Armie looks up at him, a cheeky grin on his face as he shakes his head.

"I give you props for trying to seduce me and thinking that will get me to forget about the question I just asked you."

"What question?," Timothée asks, although it's pretty clear he is putting on a facade.

"Nice try," Armie smirks, rolling them over on the bed and pinning Timothée's hands above his head before he even has time to protest. "C'mon now, will you let me photograph you or not?"

"I really don't see why you would want to do that right now."

"Because you look beautiful, almost ethereal lying on this bed right now and it would be a crime to miss this opportunity," he explains, thumb gently tracing his lips. "I could do a whole segment with just you lying in bed, it would be incredible."

"And call it what?," he mocks. "The sex hair session?"

"Not bad," Armie amuses him, earning a glare. "But I think we could probably come up with something a bit more clever if we give some thought to it."

Timothée stares back at him, biting hard on his lip, which ignites a fire inside Armie. Seeing Timothée like this, disheveled, with his lips shiny and puffed, his cheeks slightly flushed, it just drives him wild. If he wasn't trying to get Timothée into this idea so desperately, he would simply take him in his arms and make love to him once again.

"C'mon Timmy," he pleads one more time. "I promise it will be a very sexy, but also extremely respectable photoshoot."

"Ugh, fine you can do it. But be quick, I still have to go to work today."

"No worries, I have a meeting to attend too, so this won't be taking much of our time."

"Okay then."

Armie smiles, pecks his lips and looks around them, groaning as he realizes his camera is nowhere to be seen. He jumps up, grabs his briefs and puts them on, rushing around the bedroom as Timothée stares at him confused.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm grabbing my camera," he stops by the door, looking at Timothée over his shoulder. "You stay exactly where you are and don't move even an inch, I'll be right back."

"Fine."

Timothée's words are barely a whisper as Armie makes it to the apartment's common area, eyes wandering from the kitchen to the living room in search of his camera. He smiles as he spots it under the coffee table and rushes to it, taking it in his hand just as he hears a faint knock on the front door. Confused as to who would be knocking on Timothée's door so early in the morning, Armir swings the strap of his camera over his shoulder and drags himself across the living room, opening the door.

A frown forms on his face as he finds himself standing face to face with a woman, her curly black hair tied in a ponytail and her eyes wide as she stares at him up and down. He swallows, eyes roaming down his body as he finally comes to his senses; he is standing in front of a complete stranger in white briefs that leave basically nothing to the imagination. Feeling his cheeks burn, he swiftly moves his hands to the front of his crotch, trying his very best to put a smile on his face.

"Hi. What can I help you with?"

"Who are you and where is..."

"Armie, why are you..." Timothée's voice suddenly echoes around the apartment as he strides to the living room, bed sheets wrapped around his naked body.

Armie looks over his shoulder, an expression of desperation in his eyes as he gestures to the woman standing in front of him.

"Mom?"

_ Mom? MOM? _

Armie sighs, his wide eyes wandering back to the woman. That wasn't the way he wanted to start things with his boyfriend's mother.

  
  
  


* * *

"Okay," Timothée sighs, fixing his sweater as he hops onto the counter stool, his green eyes focused on his mother, who remains in silence, pouring down some coffee into a mug. "What are you doing here, mom?"

"You invited me over," she says with a shrug, taking a quick sip of her drink before reaching for another mug on the sink drainer. "Unless you have regretted doing so already and forgot to inform me."

"Yes, I invited you over for dinner, but that is tomorrow night."

"And I thought it would be nice to come here a little bit earlier so we could spend some time together, after all, it´s not always that you actually invite me over. Right?"

Timothée wrinkles his nose, the tone of disappointment in her voice as she says the last few words nearly impossible to miss. He closes his eyes, lips tightly pressed together as he inhales deeply. He understands her side of the story, knows that it is probably a very difficult situation to find yourself in, trying to change things that you have grown so used to doing. Slowly Timothée comes to realize that Armie has been right all along; he needs to bring his mother closer to him if he wants to make sure their relationship changes, because continuously pushing her away won´t help. Neither one of them.

"Okay," he clicks his tongue. "I understand I haven´t been the best son in the world, I have shutted myself down, I internalized my frustrations and problems instead of talking to you about it, which ended up making things worse for the both of us."

"Neither one of us was ever very good at sharing our feelings," Lara admits with a sigh, shrugging her shoulders. "I blame your father for it."

Timothée scoffs, shaking his head.

"Timothée, I never meant to be a mother that you are embarrassed of..."

"No no," Timothée cuts her off, reaching for her hands. "Mom, I was never embarrassed by you. You overprotect me, which is suffocating, but I also know that it comes from a place of love. You have crossed many lines over the years, said things about people I care about that I wish you wouldn´t have, but I know all along all you have tried to do was protect me, keep me from any harm."

"But I can´t do that anymore, right?"

"No, you can´t," he shakes his head, a gentle smile on the corner of his lips. "I am a grown man, mom, I have been through a lot of things and I can take care of myself, I can make decisions on my own, not only regarding my work or where I live, but also about the people I want in my life."

Lara remains silent for a moment, but eventually nods her head, trying her best to put on a smile on her lips.

"Last time I came here, we had a very honest conversation and I have been doing my best to change ever since then, it´s just not as easy as it may sound. I don´t know any other way of dealing with these feelings inside of me, I have always been slightly overprotective of everyone I loved and then you came around and... Oh, you were the tiniest baby I had ever seen and I loved you so much, I didn´t want anything bad to happen to you. And when your father left, the pain he put you through, I promised myself I would never let anyone cause so much pain to you ever again."

"Well, in the end the person who ended up putting me through similar pain was myself," he admits as she frowns. "When I ended things with Armie without really giving our relationship a chance, I broke myself more than anything, because I completely lost focus of everything around me. And when I realized what I had done, is when I realized I had to change things about myself that were destructive."

Lara nods, her thumb gentle stroking Timothée´s hand. "I guess we both need some healing, huh?"

"We do, but acknowledging that is already a huge step. So instead of keeping ourselves apart and sharing five texts each month, why don´t we try to rebuilt this relationship for good now?"

"That´s all I want to do, son."

"Then you will have to give my friends a chance to show you how great they are."

As Lara nods, Timothée hears someone clearing their throat and glances over his shoulder, just now remembering Armie is still in the apartment. He is now fully clothed, but in his cheeks Timothée can still see a hint of a blush and he can´t really blame him. Who in their right mind wants to meet their mother-in-law while only in his white briefs?

"Mom, meet Armie," he says as he stands his hand out for Armie, pulling him closer. "Armie, meet Mrs. Lara Chalamet."

"It´s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Chalamet," Armie smiles, standing his hand out for her to shake. "I just wish we had started in a better way."

"Oh, you definitely don't have to worry about that. I kind of liked the introduction, it was quite revealing."

"Mom!"

"What?"

"This is my boyfriend you are talking about."

"And I can see why you like him so much," she shrugs, a little smirk on her face as she hops off of the stool, heading over to the sink.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Armie parks the car in front of the magazine building, looking up at the grey sky before focusing his gaze on Timothée, who sits quietly on the passenger seat, his eyes distant as he bites hard on his lip. He chuckles, reaches out for him and slides a hand over his shoulder, finally catching his attention.

"Are you still worried about your mom being here? Because as far as I can tell, things went pretty good with her and she seems to have liked me."

"Maybe a bit too much," Timothée says, unable to control a chuckle from escaping him. "I mean, she was practically drooling all over you."

"Can you blame her?," Timothée shoots him a look and Armie laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "You know I'm kidding. But you know, I think it was better that we got to meet each other like this, it avoided the whole walking on eggshells situation that was bound to happen if I only saw her tomorrow night. It was a bit awkward at first, of course, but by the time we left the apartment I felt like we were getting into a pretty good conversation."

Timothée smiles, turning to his side so he can face Armie. "Tell me, what's your secret? Because there must be some sort of voodoo you do to get everyone to fall in love with you in a matter of seconds."

"Well, I happen to know someone who was pretty immune to my charms."

"Oh really?," he asks with a cocked eyebrow. "Care to introduce me to this person, because I would love to hear from them."

"Oh, you don't know who it is?"

"Well, it can't be me, because all I did was try to tell myself I wasn't in love with you when I clearly was."

"In that case, you are a terrific actor, Mr. Chalamet."

Timothée shrugs, a cheeky grin appearing on his face as he reaches a hand up to Armie's face, stroking his cheek and then sliding down his neck and to his chest, where he stops. He stares at him for a moment, sighs and then leans closer, placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

Armie smiles through the kiss, his hand sliding through Timothée's curls and gently tugging on it. He pulls away slowly, the tip of his tongue tracing his puffed lips as his eyes find Timothée's.

"Tell you what, why don't we go out for dinner with your mom tonight, huh?"

"Isn't that supposed to be tomorrow?"

"I mean just the three of us," Armie explains, his fingers playing with the hair on Timothée's nape. "It will give us the chance to get to know each other a little bit better, without a lot of people surrounding us and I think it would help ease your anxiety for tomorrow night."

Timothée bites his lip, a frown on his face as he debates whether or not this is a good idea. He eventually sighs, nodding his head slowly.

"Great, I'll make the reservations then. Any tips on places she might like?"

"She really likes her pasta."

"Italian it is then," Armie winks, pulling Timothée into another quick kiss. "Now you better get going, you and Zoe have a lot of work to do."

Timothée nods. "Good luck on your meeting. I mean, I know you're gonna crush it, but it still doesn't hurt to say it."

"Thanks to your article, I have a lot of new opportunities on the table, so even if this one doesn't work out, there's no reason to be sad about it."

"It will work out though," he winks, finger playing with the collar of Armie's shirt. "And I have nothing to do with this, your talent is what is bringing you all these opportunities. Your mom would be really proud of you."

"I hope so."

"She already was," Timothée whispers before pecking his lips, chuckling as Armie tries to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away, quickly getting out of the car. He pokes his head through the window, a large smile on his face and his curls falling down his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too."

"See you later!"

Armie chuckles, waving him goodbye as he watches Timothée turn on his heels and head inside the magazine building. He sighs, relieved that even after a rocky and awkward start, he was able to have a nice -even if short- conversation with Lara. He knew how important it was for Timothée that he and his mother got along, so it was great knowing that he took the first step in that direction. This could only help their relationship.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The clicking of silverware reverberates throughout the restaurant, which has its lights dimmed low and soft instrumental music playing on the background. Most of the tables are already filled, couples, families and groups of friends gathered for a nice meal. Sitting in the middle of the room, Timothée has his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his palm as he watches, honestly dumbfounded as his mother and Armie engage in conversation.

They have been chatting nonstop ever since their drinks arrived, going from how Lara has been searching for psychologists to help her with her issues, to how Armie noticed his talent for photography and the way his career started. With a frown, Timothée listens carefully to them, his eyes wandering from Armie to his mother repeatedly, still in awe that all his fears turned out to be just that, unfunded fears that held him back for weeks.

_ If only you would stop worrying about things before they even happened _ , Timothée tells himself as he reaches for his glass, taking a few sips of his wine. He leans back on his chair, hearing Armie's laugh echo as he shakes his head, blue eyes sparkling with joy as he gushes about his work.

"....but I spent almost a whole year doing only birthday parties and weddings, because that was what gave me money and I had to pay the bills. It was only about two years ago that I was able to slow down on those kinds of jobs and focus on partnering with fashion magazines, doing publicity photoshoots and stuff like this."

"And that's how Zoe found you?"

"Not exactly," he explains. "About a year ago I started working on my social media, making sure my photos could reach a bigger audience and much to my surprise it worked a lot better than I anticipated. I got new followers on the regular and gained some notoriety on the internet, which led Zoe to finding me. She noticed there was some interest in me and wanted to write a profile, which Timothée nearly refused to do because he didn´t think I was worth of his time."

Lara cocks an eyebrow, her eyes wandering over to Timothée, who shakes his head. He leans closer, places his drink down on the table and shoots Armie a little glare before turning back to his mother.

"He makes it sound a lot worse than it was, mom."

"You didn´t want to work with me, because you thought I was nothing but a wannabe photographer with a pretty face."

"Okay, that was kind of true, but I quickly noticed that there was more to you than I thought, which is why I accepted to not only write the article, but also go on a road trip with you."

"Which was a very dangerous idea from both of you," Lara adds, a stern look on her face.

"It was his idea."

"You did say yes, son."

"Zoe nearly forced me to do so."

"Because you thought I wasn´t worth your time."

"I´m already sleeping with you, dude, what else do I need to do to prove you I changed my mind?"

Armie chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches closer, his hand playing with Timothée´s curls.

"Do you have any projects you are working on right now, Armie?"

"Yes. I just had a meeting about it today, actually. I will be partnering with a travel magazine and they will write articles about some of the places we stopped by during our road trip and use my photos to illustrate it. I might help out on developing the articles too, although I am not really that good with words."

"He's lying," Timothée chimes in. "He´s great with words as well as with photographs."

"I´m also selecting some of my photographs to work on an exhibition in honor of my mother."

Lara´s smile immediately grows. "Well, that is a lovely thing to do. I am sure she is very proud of you and I can´t wait to see her tomorrow."

"Mom," Timothée tries to interfere, but Armie shakes his head, a hand landing on top of his.

"It's okay," he says with a smile. "My mom passed away a month ago."

"Oh my God, I am so sorry."

"It's fine. She was sick for a few years now and going through a lot of pain, so while losing her was really difficult for me and my father, I think it was the best for her. Her pain is over now, which is all we ever wanted."

Lara reaches closer, holding onto Armie´s hands as she puts on a small and comforting smile. "I can tell you loved her very much, Armie. And judging by everything I heard the past hour, I can also tell you are a great man, so I am sure she was very proud of you and everything you´ve accomplished."

"Thank, Mrs. Chalamet."

Lara nods, turning to Timothée afterwards. "I don´t know why you were so scared of me meeting him."

"Well, I forgot Armie has this incredible charm that causes everyone to fall madly in love with him. But in my defence, you still have trouble trusting Zoe and Chris, even though I know them since day one of college."

"Well, I never really got the chance to spend much time with Zoe and Chris...," Lara sighs, her hands gesturing around. "Chris can be quite a lot to handle."

Armie chuckles. "She's not wrong."

"Yes, he can be a lot, but he is also a great person and one of the reasons why I realized I needed to change some aspects of my life if I ever wanted to be happy. So maybe it's time you give him a chance to show you that although loud and a little egocentric sometimes, he is also one of the best friends I could have ever asked for."

"You are right," Lara nods. "He's been your friend for six years, maybe it's time I give him the chance to show me the Chris you know and love."

"You´ll be meeting Taylor tomorrow, loving Chris will be a piece of cake."

"Who´s Taylor?"

"Armie´s nerd, slightly egocentric and millionaire best friend."

"Well, that´s a wild combination."

"He's good though," Timothée admits. "I´d just say he doesn't trust people easily, which we both understand quite easily."

"Yes, we do."

Timothée smiles, his fingers laced with Armie´s as he watches the waiter approach them with their food. He sighs, a feeling of contentment so big inside of him, he barely has words to describe it. His mother is with him, trying her best to change and make him happy. But even better, her and his boyfriend, the man he loves, are getting along just fine and he doubts there's anything he could ask right now to make things better.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sighs, a hand running through his curls as he exits the bathroom, Armie´s t-shirt covering his body. He crawls into the bed, snuggling himself under the covers as Armie remains with his eyes locked on the book in his hand. He smiles over at him, moves closer and lets a finger gently trace the exposed skin on his shoulder, then his neck and eventually his jaw, his stubble ticking his skin.

He closes the book, grabs Armie´s chin and forces him to face him, planting a soft kiss on his lips, smiling as it quickly grows into a much more heated and passionate one. He takes a hold of Armie´s glasses, carefully places them down on the bedside table and swings a leg over his body, straddling him.

When his hands come in contact with his bare thighs, Timothée bites and pulls on his bottom lip, earning a soft and almost inaudible moan. He smirks, wraps his arms around Armie´s neck and lets him tug on his curls, tilting his head backwards so he can kiss his jaw and Adam´s apple.

"Are you sure your mother is gonna be okay on her own," Armie whispers, his hand tugging on the hem of his own shirt.

"She´s a big girl, Armie, she can handle a night on her own," he replies, cradling his face in his hands. "Besides, I told her tomorrow the both of us will have to spend the night at our own houses, with our respective parents, so I think she understood what I wanted to say."

Armie chuckles, holds tight on Timothée´s waist and rolls them over on the bed, hovering on top of him. He pushes a few curls behind his ear, strokes his cheek and then plants a kiss on his lips, light shivers running through his body when Timothée grabs onto his ass, squeezing it softly.

"So since we have the night for ourselves," he smirks, leaning on his elbows.

"Yes? What you got planned, huh?"

"I´ll take those photos I was going to take this morning, but your mom kindly interrupted us."

"Are you fucking serious?," he whines as Armie nods. "I´m lying in your bed, completely naked apart from your t-shirt and all you want to do is take photos of me?"

"You´ll look even more beautiful in the photos with that needy expression in your eyes."

Timothée frowns, staring at Armie for a brief moment before he eventually rolls his eyes and nods.

"Fine, but you better make it quick, because I´m horny and I might not wait for you to get this over with."

"Wouldn´t that be great material?," Armie grins, his eyes locked on Timothée, whose cheeks turn a bright crimson. "Oh, what is that look upon your face? Have you actually thought about the idea?"

"No, of course not."

"You are a terrible liar, Chalamet."

Timothée groans, hitting Armie´s chest. "Okay, maybe the idea crossed my mind once or twice, but it´s not like I would ever do it."

"And why is that?"

"I wouldn´t want those photos to ever fall into the wrong hands."

"And you think I would do that?"

"No, I know you´re not that kind of guy, but...," he trails off, cocking an eyebrow as Armie waits for him to go on. He sits down on the bed, watching as Armie mirrors his movements and bites his lip. "Are you actually considering the idea of doing this?"

"I think it would be an excellent way to spend our time."

"Would you be in those photos too?"

"I could be."

A mischievous grin spreads across Timothée´s face, but he quickly shakes it off. "No, that´s a terrible idea."

"Whatever you say," Armie shrugs, pushing himself up so he can grab his camera. Before he can move though, Timothée grabs onto his hand, bringing him back to the bed. "What? Changed your mind already?"

"Take your clothes off, Hammer, we have a photoshoot to work on."


	41. Momma´s Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One big and happy family

It´s a surprisingly sunny Saturday morning in New York City, the cold november weather giving a bit of truce and allowing people to walk around with lighter jackets than the previous days. Inside La Cafeteria, a small line forms in front of the cashier, although most of the tables remain empty. Leaned against the counter, eyes down to his phone as he scrolls through some random messages from his friends, Armie waits for his drinks, nibbling on the bagel that has already been placed there for him.

He sighs, hears his name being called and raises his gaze, smiling over at the barista. He gives her a quick nod, places the plate with the bagel and croissant on the tray and turns on his heels, heading to the table under the large window. He sits across from Timothée, sliding one of the drinks towards him as he takes another bite of his bagel.

He moans softly, still surprised by how much he loves everything on La Cafeteria, which is slowly turning into his favorite coffee shop too. Although he has to admit Timothée can be quite manipulative in that area, which means they are going less and less to Black Brick, while they go nearly every single day to La Cafeteria. If the coffee and bagels were not that good, Armie sure would be mad.

He takes a sip of his coffee, eyes on Timothée, who has his phone in his hand, typing some quickly. He seems a lot more relaxed this morning and much to Armie´s surprise has yet to even mention their dinner, which until last morning was the main thing in his head.

"So," Armie finally says, catching his attention. "Ready for tonight?"

Timothée lets out a sigh, a small smile spreading across his face as he nods. "I am. Turns out going for dinner with you and my mom last night did help ease my nerves, you know? I realized that there was no need for me to worry about it like that, specially once all worries were based on my own issues. I mean, don´t get me wrong, I´m still praying to all known Gods that our parents get along, but I´m less nervous about the whole thing."

Armie smiles, leaning against the table so he can reach Timothée´s hand, which he gently strokes. "Listen to me, it will be great if our parents get along, but it also won´t mean a thing if they don´t. There are tons of couples out there who have in-laws that don´t get along, so if that happens to happen with us, we will be part of an statistic that I would rather not be in, but it also won´t affect what I feel for you."

"I know it´s kind of stupid to worry about this, but..."

"Hey, it´s not stupid at all. You want our families to get along, that´s what any couple would like to see it happen, the only problem is that we can´t control how people feel about each other."

"That´s true."

"So we´ll do our part," he winks as Timothée nods. "You want me to pick you up tonight?"

"No, I´ll drive there myself. We´ll have to get back to my apartment after dinner and if you pick us up, you´ll have to drive us back and I don´t want you to waste any time you could be with your dad with such things."

"It´s never wasting time when you are involved."

"Thank you, but I got this," he smiles, squeezes Armie´s hand and then clears his throat, a slightly more serious expression taking him over. "You know, you never told me if you had decided what you´d like to keep from your mom."

Armie sighs, leaning back on his seat, his finger tracing the brim of the cup. "I didn´t say anything because I couldn´t decide."

"What you mean? You didn´t tell your father to bring you anything?"

"Timothée, I don´t know what to get. It feels weird to choose one thing to remember her by, I just can´t do it."

"Armie, it's not that one thing that will define what you remember of her, but I think it would be nice to have something that belonged to her with you. Don´t you think?"

"I do, I simply don´t know what to choose."

"Was there anything she owned that you really liked? Something that reminded you of her when you saw it somewhere else?"

Armie smiles all of a sudden, his eyes distant as a memory clearly fills his head.

"There's one thing," he finally says, looking back at Timothée. "She had this typewriter on her office, it didn´t work so she had it painted, changed some things and turned into an art piece. She really loved that thing and sometimes I would walk into the office and she was sitting there, staring at the typewriter like it was the greatest piece of art in the world. It was her Monalisa."

"Then why didn´t you tell your dad to bring it to you?"

"Because while I didn´t really know what to choose, I also kept thinking that whatever it was, I would be taking something away from my father. I feel like he needs it a lot more than I do right now."

Timothée bites his lip, pushes himself up and walks over to Armie, sitting beside him on the booth. He wraps an arm around his shoulder, plants a kiss on his cheek and smiles as their eyes meet.

"You are not taking anything away from him, Armie, trust me. Besides, I think you´re not giving your dad enough credit, he misses your mother, that´s for sure, but he is doing a lot better now."

"I guess you are right."

"I am. Now text him, because he needs to see this before leaving Scarsdale."

Armie nods, pecking Timothée´s lips before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone, quickly texting his father.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's nearly ten in the morning when Timothée finally makes it to his apartment, a brown paper bag in his hand as he closes the front door behind him, eyes immediately wandering around the apartment in search of hs mother. He frowns when he notices the quietness of the place, kicks his sneakers to the side and places his phone down on the living room coffee table before heading to the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter.

He notices the coffee machine is working, a few couple of drops of coffee dripping into the pot, and inhales deeply, the smell filling his nostrils. He reaches for a mug on the top cupboard and fills it up with coffee, taking a few sips of it as he looks around the kitchen, noticing a newspaper lying in one of the stools. For some odd reason, his mother still chose to buy a newspaper every morning, instead of changing into online versions like everybody else. He had to admit, the sigh was quite amusing though.

"Good morning," he hears her voice echo in the apartment and raises his gaze, smiling over at her from behind his big mug. "Thought you were spending the day at Armie's place today."

"Good morning, mom," he places a kiss on her cheek as she walks over, taking a seat beside him. "I didn't want to leave you alone for the day, besides Armie is going to be with his father and work on dinner, so I figured it would be better if I stayed here. Too many people in the kitchen can be quite stressful."

"That is true," she says, a hand landing on his thigh. "What is this bag?"

"I brought you a bagel, with cream cheese and salmon."

"Oh, fancy breakfast, I like it."

"Armie was the one who chose it, so you can thank him later tonight."

"Will do that," she winks, grabbing a mug for herself and pouring some coffee in it. "I gotta say, I understand why you were worried about me not liking him, I admit I have a bad record, but boy seems to be the sweetest person I have ever met."

"He is, mom," Timothée assures her, his smile impossible to control. "He is the sweetest, most loving and patient person I have ever met."

"I'm happy that you found him, son. He seems to bring out the best of you, which is honestly everything I could ask for."

"He makes me a better person, mom. And if that wasn't enough, he listens to me and tries to help me get through my struggles. We went through quite a lot and I know most people would have turned their back on me, but he is here, encouraging me to be the best version of myself."

Lara smiles, reaching for Timothée's hand. "You love him, don't you?"

"I do and it was a terrifying realization at first, but I know now that there's nothing to be worried about, because Armie would never do anything to hurt me."

"I was meaning to ask you this," Lara starts, turning to face Timothée, her hand resting on top of his. "All the guys you went out with and never really got around to anything serious. All this time you were afraid of getting hurt? That's why you never really dated anyone?"

"That's why I pushed them all away," he corrects her with a shrug. "Some of these guys wanted to date me, they wanted to get to know me, but I pushed every single one of them away, because I couldn't bear the idea of getting involved with them only to suffer in the end."

"I see."

"I had to hurt Armie to realize that what I was doing was sabotaging myself, because if I kept that going, I would end up alone."

"You would never be alone, because I will always be here for you."

"I know that," he smiles, takes her hand and plants a soft kiss on it. "So, anything you want to do today?"

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help Armie?"

"He's working on dinner and I will buy some drinks later today, so I think it's all sorted."

"What if I baked that pecan pie you always loved? Think he and your friends would like that?"

Timothée stares at Lara for a moment, his heart full as he realizes his mother is trying her very best to change their relationship around. He squeezes her hand, puts on a smile and nods his head.

"I think they would love it, mom."

"Great, then I'll finish breakfast and then go buy everything. Would you help me with it?"

"Of course I would."

* * *

  
  
  


"You have always loved that typewriter," Paul says while leaning against the iron and glass partition to the bedroom, his blue eyes down to Armie, who sits on the edge of his bed, a hand resting on the typewriter. "I don't know why I didn't think of it in the first place when I called you, now it seems like the obvious answer."

"Obvious," Armie whispers, his eyes down the entire time. He sniffs, rubs his face with his hand and then raises his gaze to meet his father, who has now taken a few steps closer to him. "Do you also go through days that you can't really believe she isn't around anymore?"

"Only every day."

"Right."

Paul sighs, takes a seat beside Armie on the bed and lets a hand rest on his knee, squeezing it softly until Armie looks him in the eye. He immediately notices the tears that are forming in his eyes, his lips quivering as he attempts to say something, although everything that comes out is a heavy sigh. Paul smiles, a smile only a father who perfectly understands what his child is going through can give, and then hugs him tight, caressing his hair as Armie buries his face in the crook of his neck.

"I miss her, dad."

"I know you do, son."

"I wish she could be here today," he says while trying to catch his breath. "I wish she could have seen how happy Timothée and I are, because I know that's what she wanted."

"And who's to say she is not seeing it?"

"You've never been the religious type, dad."

"That's true, but doesn't mean I don't have my own beliefs," he explains, wiping away the tears that stream down Armie's cheeks. "Your mother was insanely proud of you, Armand. She also knew you can be quite stubborn, which delayed the conversation you and Timothée had to have, but she died hoping that eventually things would change between the two of you. So trust me when I say, she knows how happy you are."

Armie nods, sniffing a couple of times as Paul cradles his face and pulls him closer, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Look, this past week has been quite emotional for me too. Going through her stuff, deciding what stays and goes, it overwhelmed me, left me feeling so down, I barely got out of bed yesterday..."

"Dad, why didn't you tell me that?"

"Because that's part of grief, Armand. Grief comes in different forms, lasts way longer than we could ever expect and each person deals with it in a different way. But what I am trying to say is that there will be days we'll remember her and be sad she's gone, while on others we will laugh and smile at the memories."

Armie nods once again, sitting up straight, his eyes still focused on his father.

"I think your call the other day, seeing Timothée with his mother and this family dinner we set up affected me more than I wanted to admit."

"You don't ever have to hide your feelings, son. You must know by now that I will always be here for you, just like I know you'll be here for me."

"Always, dad."

Paul smiles, engulfs Armie in another tight hug, his hands gently stroking his back. He plants a kiss on his temple while pulling away, then nods towards the kitchen.

"We have dinner to work on, maybe we should focus on that? We don't wanna leave Mrs. Chalamet hungry, do we?"

"No, we don't."

Paul winks, a playfully smile on his face as he pushes himself up, walking away from the bed. He sighs, stops and turns on his heels, looking over at Armie, who stares back at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"What?"

"You sure you're okay to cook? We could call Timothée, tell him to reschedule."

"No, there's no need for that," Armie smiles, pushing himself up, a hand wrapping around his father's shoulder as he leads him to the kitchen. "I am doing alright, you don't have to worry. It's just, looking at the typewriter reminded of the afternoons we would spend at the office, me sipping some cocoa, while she read a new book she had found."

"I think I have a photo of you two doing exactly that," Paul chuckles, nudging Armie softly as they reach the kitchen. "You wouldn't leave her side when you were a kid, wherever she went to, you were right behind her."

Arme shrugs, reaching for some vegetables on the fridge. "I was a momma's boy, what can I say?"

Paul chuckles, nodding his head as he grabs the paper bags on the ground and places them on the counter, extracting the content from it as he and Armie reminisce about his childhood, retelling their favorite stories, all of them starring Victoria.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée frowns as the door swings open, revealing Chris standing there, a bright smile on his face and a glow in his blue eyes. He stands leaned against the threshold, tight skinny jeans, black shirt and a beer in his hand.

"Timmy!," he screams and if it was anyone else Timothée would think they were wasted, but knowing Chris, he was just hyped to be around everyone. "We were starting to think you had given up on dinner."

"I am on time," Timothée explains, pushing Chris to the side so he can step inside the house. "The question is, why on earth did you get here so early?"

"I wanted to check if my boy wanted some help," he shrugs. "Turns out it was all mostly done, so I just sat down with his dad, Lee and Taylor and drank a couple of beers."

"Your boy?"

"Yeah, my boy."

Timothée rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he lets out a chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't be worried over the amount of love you have for my boyfriend."

"Hey, I can be a whore sometimes, but I would never steal my best friend's boyfriend," he pats Timothée's shoulder, taking a sip of his beer. As his eyes fall upon Lara though, he quickly straightens himself, clearing his throat before putting on a small and comforting smile on his face. "Mrs. Chalamet, I'm sorry for my rudeness. It's a pleasure to see you again.”

"It's nice to see you too, Chris."

"Is it?," he asks incredulously as Timothée chuckles and mirrors his movement from seconds ago, patting his shoulder before he gestures over to the kitchen.

He leaves the two of them behind, faintly hearing his mother confirm that she is indeed happy to see Chris, although Timothée knows this is her doing her best. She might not hate Chris, but she also clearly did not miss him, or cared enough to keep him in mind.

He places the bags with drinks down on the counter, leans against it and lets a wide grin take over his face as he watches Armie move along the space, taking glasses and plates from the cupboards. When he finally turns around and sees him, Armie manages to let a smile form on his lips, but Timothée can easily see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

He frowns, walks around the counter and reaches Armie, his hands immediately moving up to his face, which he cradles before sliding them over to his chest. In silence, they stare at each other's eyes for a moment, Timothée trying his very best to understand what is going through Armie's mind.

"What is going on?"

"Nothing."

"You should know better than to lie to me, Armie. Whether you like to admit or not, your eyes do all the talking most the time and I can see that there's something there, so just say it."

"It's stupid, really," he assures Timothée, who shoots him a look. "Look, I don't know why, but talking to my dad about my mom's belongings, have him bring her typewriter today and seeing you and your mother together, I guess it made me a lot more emotional than I expected to be."

"Why didn't you tell me anything? We could have postponed dinner."

"No, I don't want that."

"Armie..."

"Look, I'm a little melancholic, missing her more than usual because I would love to have her here with us tonight, but I am doing alright."

"You promise?"

"I promise," Armie smiles and this time Timothée can actually see a hint of a glow in his eyes.

Timothée stands on his tiptoes, a hand sliding over to the nape of Armie's neck as he pulls him down for a kiss. He hears groaning behind them and chuckles, knowing full well that Chris, Taylor and Lee are the ones teasing them. He pulls away, shoots their friends a look of annoyance, but relaxes as Armie wraps an arm around his waist, keeping his body pressed against his.

He gazes up at him, smiles wide and turns around in his arms, planting a quick kiss on his lips before he walks over to his mother, who is standing near the stairs, Archie staring up at her. He grabs her hand and pulls her with him towards Paul, who quickly stands up, standing a hand out for her.

"Mrs. Chalamet, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Hammer," Lara replies, shaking his hand. "Your son had nothing but great stories to tell me about you, so I was really looking forward to meeting you."

"Oh he's been talking about me?"

"He has and he seems like the proudest of sons."

Paul glances over at Armie, who shrugs his shoulders, a little blush coming to his cheeks as he works to open the wine bottle.

"Well, he has also given me a lot of reasons to be proud," he eventually says. "But I think you understand, I mean, Timothée is one of the sweetest, most caring and intelligent young men I have ever met."

"He really is," she says, glancing at Timothée.

"Oh, can you two stop embarrassing us?," he complains, before pushing his mother in the direction of their friends. "Mom, these are Armie's friends, Lee and Taylor."

"Taylor," she repeats, shaking his hand. "You are the sometimes egocentric millionaire, right?"

"Mom!"

"Ouch," Taylor frowns, nudging Lee, who laughs. "Great introduction, Tim. But I guess I deserved that for the hard time I gave you in the beginning."

"In his defense," Armie shouts from the kitchen, catching everyone's attention. "I was the one who said you are a nerdy, sometimes egocentric millionaire."

"Et tu, Brute."

Armie shrugs, earning a laugh from the rest of the room. Timothée smiles, hands in his pockets as he watches his friends and Paul welcome his mother into conversation. He sighs in relief, looks up when he feels Armie's hand on his shoulder and places his hand on top of his.

"Told you not to worry about dinner too much," Armie whispers, planting a quick kiss on his temple afterwards.

"I guess I need to trust your instincts more often."

"You sure do."

Timothée chuckles, looks back at their friends in the living room and frowns.

"Where's Zoe?"

"Texted saying she will be a little late," Armie explains. "Something about a problem at her folk's house, but she said she will be here for the actual meal."

Timothée nods. "Do you need any help?"

"I was about to set the table."

"Let's do it then," he winks, wrapping an arm around Armie's waist as they walk back to the kitchen, taking the silverware and plates from the counter and taking it to the dining table.

* * *

  
  
  


It´s almost midnight and the house has gone quiet, the only sound that echoes is the tinkling of silverware as Paul and Lara clean up the kitchen, a task they pretty much fought over. After their friends left, Armie and Timothée tried their best, but it was all in vain; their parents made sure they were secluded upstairs in the studio, while they took the quietness of the night to chat and get to know one another a little bit better.

Leaned against the banister, Timothée had his eyes distant, although he tries his very best to understand what Paul and Lara talk downstairs. They seem to be getting along just fine, which is everything he wanted to happen; knowing that not only their friends, but also their parents could create a bond, get along and enjoy spending time together was the best possible scenario for him and he had accomplished that.

Distracted, he barely notices Armie approaching him, which causes him to jump slightly as he slides his hands around his waist. He smiles, leans back against his touch and rests his hands on top of his, closing his eyes for a brief second as Armie leans his chin on his shoulder. How good it feels to have him close.

"You sure you don´t want to stay?"

"Of course I want to stay," he explains, placing a quick kiss on Armie´s lips despite how much he has to contort his body.

"But?"

"But, despite how much I love your house, this place is not exactly a family home, is it? So unless you are planning to have my mom sleeping in the same bed as your dad, I guess we don´t really have an option."

"There´s always an option," he protests, turning Timothée around. "Your mom stays in the bed, my dad sleeps on the couch and we stay up here. I mean, this couch can turn into a bed, which will easily fit the both of us, so it´s truly all about whether you want to stay or not."

"Cute that you thought this through," he says, fingers intertwined in the back of Armie´s neck. "But there´s no way I allowing your dad to sleep on the couch when he could have a bed all to himself. So why don´t we stop talking, enjoy the minutes we still got together, because once they are done with the kitchen, mom and I will be heading back to my place."

"Fine," Armie rolls his eyes, earning a chuckle from Timothée. "You´re lucky you are cute, otherwise I would be very disappointed in you right now."

"Oh shut up."

He smacks their lips together, hungrily kissing Armie, who swiftly responds, his hand holding tightly onto his waist as his tongue invades Timothée´s mouth. He moans through the kiss, fingers reaching for any hair he can find, while his body lights up on fire. Suddenly it doesn´t even seem like it's a November night.

Armie slides his hands down his body, playfully slaps his ass and then grabs onto his thighs, forcing him up. Timothée chuckles, wraps his legs around Armie´s hips and lets his lips move down his jaw and then his neck, sucking and licking the skin.

He holds tight onto Armie as he walks around the studio, thanking God that he is well aware of his surroundings, which keeps them from tumbling to the ground. As they reach the couch, Armie gently sits down, keeping him on his lap, his large hands sneaking inside his jeans, grabbing and pinching his asscheeks.

"Your father and my mother are downstairs," Timothée whispers, doing his best to suppress a loud moan from escaping him. He tilts his head to the side, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as Armie latches his lips onto his skin, sucking and nibbling on it. "Fuck, Armie, you´re getting me horny here."

"Good, because I already am."

Timothée bites his lip, cradles his face and turns it towards him, kissing him once again, this time slower but just as sensual as the first. He slides his hands down Armie´s chest and stomach, forces his hand inside his pants and grabs his cock, giving one quick tug before...

"Timothée!"

They pull away immediately, faces bright red as they stare at each other´s eyes for a whole minute, silence taking over the house. He sighs, jumps up and walks over to the banister, smiling down at his mother.

"Yes?"

"I´m going to call a cab."

"What? Why?"

"So you won´t have to drive me back."

"Mom, I drove us here and I will drive us back to my place."

"Son, you can stay here with Armie, I don´t mind."

"I agree with her," Armie mumbles, a little smirk on his face, which quickly turns into a chuckle as Timothée shoots him a glare. "Fine, I´ll keep myself quiet."

"Mom, I´m going home with you just like we planned."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"Okay then."

"Just give me a second, alright?," he smiles, turns on his heels and takes a few steps towards Armie, who is halfway across the studio now. He grabs onto his chin, pulls him down and plants a soft kiss on his lips, his free hand pressing against Armie´s crotch. "I´ll see you tomorrow."

"You tease," Armie mumbles, then gently pulls on his bottom lip. "Good night."

"Good night," he pecks his lips once more, quickly turns around and heads down the stairs, a sigh loud sigh escaping him. “Why do I always get cockblocked?”


	42. Mi Casa Es Su Casa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Way past the freaking out phase

Armie leans against the bedroom wall, arms crossed above his chest and a small smile on the corner of his lips as he watches Timothée in the bed, sleeping peacefully and with his curls all over his face. He glances over his shoulder for a second, notices the coffee machine is about to turn off, then pushes himself off of the wall and walks to the bed, crawling on it.

He gently pulls on the blanket, exposing Timothée naked back and lays a soft kiss on his lower back, only to keep on going further up his spine, stopping only when he reaches his nape. He pushes some hair to the side, kisses there repeatedly and then moves to his shoulder, which he gently bites when Timothée groans.

Kneeling down on the bed, Armie watches as Timothée yawns and opens his eyes, rolling to his back so they can be face to face. He winks, leans down and plants a quick kiss on his lips, tucking a few curls behind his ear while he does so. Timothée grips tightly onto his sweater, keeping him as close as possible, which makes him chuckle. If he could, Armie would simply slide under the sheets and keep Timothée´s body close to his.

"Good morning," he whispers, nose brushing against Timothée´s. "Breakfast is ready."

"Can´t I stay here just a little longer?"

"You can," he replies, "but you might end up late for work."

"Do you think Zoe would mind that?"

"Not having her most important writer in the office with her? Yes, I think she would mind a little bit."

Timothée scoffs, closes his eyes and goes silent for a moment, his hand still clutching onto Armie´s sweater as if his life depended on it. Armie chuckles, grabs his hand and pulls him along with him, forcing him to sit across from him.

"I really don´t want to get out of bed today," Timothée groans, eyes wandering to the large window beside his bed. "It´s snowing?"

"A little bit, yes."

"Are you sure is the right time to go on a camping trip with your friends?," he asks, eyes wandering back to Armie. "Is getting really cold, you guys might end up frozen to death."

"It´s not like we haven´t done that before, Tim, so there´s no need for you to worry, we got everything covered."

Timothée nods, rubs his eyes and lets out yet another yawn.

"You really not in the mood today, are you?"

"I am in the mood for a lot of things," he says with a wink, pulling Armie close. "Just not for work in particular."

"Well, I can fully understand that, but not only do you have an article to finish, you also have a party to organize."

"Ugh, don´t even remind me. I don´t know what I was thinking when I pitched this idea to Zoe, organizing a party to celebrate the magazine's fourth anniversary is turning out to be a lot more trouble than I expected."

Armie smiles, pecks his lips and then pushes himself up, his hand out for Timothée to take.

"I know you are more than capable of handling this, Timmy."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are. So get up, come have breakfast with me, because we both need to be out by eight o´clock."

Timothée nods, grabs Armie´s hand and chuckles softly as he pulls him with all his will, their bodies slamming together. He smiles, hands stroking Armie´s arms as they look at one another.

"You are going to meet your parent´s lawyer today?"

"Yeah, my dad wants me to be there for the whole thing. I mean, it's no secret what my mom had and what she wanted to do with it, so I'm guessing it's more about me being his moral support than anything else."

Timothée nods. "I can´t really believe he had the strength to handle everything on his own, to be honest. Going through her things, deciding what stays and what goes, it must have been really hard for him."

"And I tried to help, I really did, but he wanted to do things on his own."

"He´s stubborn, just like you."

"Well, like father like son, right?"

Timothée nods, a hand sliding down Armie´s waist. "So, what do we have for breakfast?"

"Toast, eggs and coffee."

"You can do better than that, Hammer."

Armie chuckles, slapping his butt as Timothée smirks. "Well, I am sorry if my breakfast is not up to your standards, Mr. Chalamet."

"Eh, I think I can deal with it."

"Well, you better, cause that´s all we got."

Timothée chuckles, kisses his cheek and then hops onto one of the stools, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee. He inhales deeply, the smell filling up his nostrils and making him smile.

"What time you think you´re gonna be back?"

"Around four? We are going to meet with the lawyer and then go to lunch, so I probably won´t be back at the road until two or three."

"Okay then, maybe we can order some takeout tonight? Stay in and enjoy the time we have together before you leave me to spend the weekend in the woods."

Armie smirks, reaching up to grab onto Timothée´s chin. "Look at the bright side of things, Timmy, I could be taking you with me."

"Yeah, I think a weekend alone will be good."

"Thought so."

"Besides, now that Zoe is single again I think she will need some time with her friends this weekend."

"How is she, by the way?"

"I think work is keeping her busy enough for her not to think too much about it, but once the weekend comes and she finds herself all alone in the apartment, I guess it's finally gonna hit her."

"Good thing she has you and Chris to make her some company."

Timothée nods, stealing a toast from Armie´s place. "So, where exactly are you and the boys headed to?"

"Oh, we´ll..."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée leans against the wall, eyes down as he taps his foot on the ground, waiting until the beep sounds off inside the elevator. As the doors open, he pushes himself off of the wall, a frown as he realizes Zoe isn´t standing there as she usually does every morning, waiting for the coffee he always brings her. He steps out, eyes wandering around the entire room until he spots Zoe in her office, eyes stuck to the computer screen.

He bites his lip, debates on whether it would be better to leave her alone, but figures that the best he can do right now is be there for his friend. He takes a sip of his coffee, walks over to the office and knocks on the door, tilting his head to the side so she can see who it is through the glass walls.

She gestures him in and Timothée swiftly opens the door, juggling with the two cups of coffee. He kicks the door close, walks over to her and calmly sits across her, sliding one of the cups in her direction. They sit in silence for a while, sipping their coffees, stealing quick glances at one another, but Timothée obviously can´t go on like this forever.

"What is going on, Zoe?"

"There´s nothing going on, Tim. I´m just trying to wrap my head around all that happened the last couple of days, you know?"

"You miss him?"

She shrugs, her finger tracing the brim of the cup. "Yes, I do. But I am aware we were not good for each other, you know? The sex was great, but we were way too different and I don´t mean you and Armie different, I mean people with completely different views of the world. It would never work out between us."

"At least you figured that out soon enough," he says, trying his best to put on a comforting smile. "It could be worse if you had maintained the relationship, tried to change him or yourself."

"I would never do that."

Timothée sighs and reaches out to hold her hand in his. "I´m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just let me know and I will do everything I can to help you."

"Thank, Tim."

"You know, I was thinking that maybe we could do something tomorrow. Just the three of us, like the old days, going to a club or some nice bar. What you think?"

Zoe smiles, plants a kiss on Timothée´s hand and then pats it softly. "I´m happy you want to help me out, but I don´t really feel like partying right now, Tim."

"Okay, then you and Chris can stop by the house, we´ll order some food, get some drinks and watch a couple of movies. We can do that for the whole weekend if you want," Zoe stares back at him, a little smirk forming on her lips. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Zoe, c´mon, why are you looking at me like this?"

"It's just...," she sighs, but the smile never leaves her lips. "I just noticed that lately you´ve been referring to Armie´s house in a way that suggests the house is yours too."

"What?"

"Yep. You no longer make sure you are talking about Armie´s house. Like just now, you said we should stop by the house, as if it was your house as much as it is Armie´s."

"Huh," Timothée bites his lip, eyes down to his cup of coffee.

"Oh, c´mon, I didn´t mean to freak you out."

"Zoe, I'm past the point of freaking out," he admits with a shrug. "I said I love you without even noticing, I text him all the time, if I don´t see him I get seriously sad by the end of the day. I have turned into the man I never thought I could be."

"And I am insanely proud of you for that."

"Are you?"

"Timothée, you have come such a long way. Meeting Armie has opened your eyes to so many things about life in general, but specially about yourself, the things you were losing by closing in and pushing people away. Trust me, seeing how happy he makes you, makes me happy."

"Well," Timothée shrugs, a little grin coming to his face. "Thank you for forcing me to work with him then."

"You´re very welcome. And I hope you remember that when you guys decide to get married, because I want to be part of it somehow."

"Okay, now you´re going a bit too far."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, kneeling down as Archie rushes to his side, nuzzling himself in between his legs. He smiles, strokes his furry back and places a quick kiss on his head before getting back up, placing his camera down on the steps of the stairs. He takes a quick look around the quiet house, makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a beer, taking a few sips of it.

He sighs, walks over to the living room and cocks an eyebrow, noticing Timothée's laptop sitting on the coffee table. His mind instantly takes him back to their road trip, when he read Timothée's journal and days after managed to glance at an email on his computer; he also remembers exactly how angry Timothée was at that, but once again he simply can't hold himself back. He leans forward, swiftly realizing what the document is.

A small smile forms on the corner of Armie's lip, content that Timothée is back to writing his novels. He leans back on the couch, takes another sip of his beer and glances up as he hears footsteps, his eyes finding Timothée, who stands by the bathroom door with a frown.

"Before you try to tear my head off," Armie quickly says, raising his hands in surrender. "You were the one who left your laptop open on the file, and this is my living room, it´s hard not to look."

Timothée shoots him a look, but then scoffs, shaking his head as he makes his way over.

"You're writing again."

"More like trying," he groans while throwing himself down on the couch beside Armie. "I don't even know why though, I should just accept the fact that I am only a journalist."

"You keep trying because it's something you are passionate about, otherwise you wouldn't have all these files and prompts prepared, Tim."

"Unfinished files, Armie," he corrects with a sigh. "I've been trying to come up with something for years now, but nothing it's good enough or remotely interesting to keep me going. I should just give up already and stop fooling myself."

"I'm not gonna let you do that, because I know how talented you are."

"Armie..."

"Timothée, maybe all you need is to change your approach to things and eventually everything will come together."

Timothée cocks an eyebrow, looking over at Armie. "What do you mean?"

"Your mother never managed to become a writer and I think in some ways you're trying to make it for the both of you, which puts a fucking load of pressure on your shoulders. Maybe if you would just focus on yourself, your talent and what you can accomplish with your words you'd managed to get there."

Timothée remains in silence, his eyes locked on Armie, who sighs, turning to face him. He smiles, strokes his cheek and pushes a curl behind his ear.

"Look, I think it's lovely that you and your mother share the same love for books, that both of you have this incline to write novels, but how can you set your mind into this if you're thinking about her failure all the time? Set your mind free, focus on what you want, the stories you want to tell and be patient with yourself, if you do that, I am sure you are gonna accomplish everything you always wanted."

"Thank you," Timothée stammers through the words, his eyes watery as Armie pulls him into a hug. He sighs, tugging on his sweater, keeping him close to him for a moment more. "I think I really needed to hear that."

"I'm here to help you throughout anything, Timothée. Just be honest with me, let me in and I will do whatever I can to make sure I can help you."

Timothée nods, a hand resting on Armie's cheek before he plants a soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Over the almost two months they had been dating, Armie learned a few new things about Timothée, little details he had not picked up during their road trip, but that were becoming more and more present on their day to day life. One of these things was the very peculiar expression on Timothée´s face whenever they were watching a film that required a little bit more attention. He would scrunch his nose, bite down hard on his bottom lip and keep his eyes so focused on the television, it was almost as if he didn´t blink.

His first reaction at the expression was to chuckle, but as the days went by and he saw it become something quite common in their lives, Armie noticed just how cute it really was. Then again, Armie has to admit that pretty much everything Timothée does charms him, even when he is trying -and lots of times succeeding- to be a brat. But he supposes that´s what loving someone truly is, things that you would often find annoying can become quite amusing, only because that person makes it all feel and look different.

And while they lie down on the couch, Timothée on his side and with his head pressed against his chest, Armie can´t help but glance down at him from time to time, noticing glimpses of the expression he has now learned to love. He pushes some of his stray curls away from his face, plants a soft kiss on his forehead and smiles as Timothée raises his head to gaze up at him.

They don´t say a word, simply stare at one another, loose smiles on their lips, eyes that say so much more than words could ever fully express. When Timothée tilts his head backwards a little, Armie fully understands the message and leans forward, taking a hold of his chin while he plants a soft kiss upon his lips.

Pulling away, Armie tightens his grip around Timothée´s body, keeping him as close as humanly possible and burying his nose against his curls. Suddenly Armie realizes moments like this one are what he misses the most when they are apart, which also reminds him that for the first time ever since they got back together, they will spend the whole weekend away from one another. Sure, he will be with his friends, people he feels extremely comfortable with, people he can talk to about everything and everyone. But Timothée won´t be there and as clingy as it may sound, it will definitely take him a while to get used to it.

Trying not to put too much thought into something so trivial, Armie moves his eyes back to the television, focusing his attention on the movie they are watching. It took them nearly an hour to decide what to watch, impatiently going through Netflix´s entire catalogue in search of something worth their time, he might as well actually watch the thing instead of letting it turn into nothing more than white noise.

By the time the film is over, Armie can hear Timothée´s breathing getting louder and one quick look down tells him he is about to fall into a heavy state of sleep. He gets up, gently picks Timothée up in his arms and laughs softly as he immediately wraps his arms and legs around his body, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Armie holds him tight, turns off the television and walks over to the bedroom, placing Timothée down in the bed and pulling the covers on top of him. He stares down at him for a moment, places a kiss on his forehead and then heads over to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Once out of the bathroom, boxers and a large t-shirt on, Armie swiftly walks over to the bed and crawls under the covers with Timothée, who moves over towards him only seconds later, his arm tightly wrapped around his waist. Armie looks down at him, a hand softly stroking his hair as he closes his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée lets out a loud sigh, pulling the covers over his head as he moves around on the bed, sticking his hand out to reach for Armie. He opens his eyes, raising his head as he notices the emptiness of the space beside him. He frowns, pulls the cover off of him and swiftly sits down on the bed, eyes wandering around the place in search for Armie. He glances at the clock at the bedside table, realizes it's already past nine and sighs, throwing himself back on the bed.

He wanted to be awake when Armie left, have breakfast with him and share a couple of words before they were separated for the entirety of the weekend, but since he forgot to set an alarm and Armie clearly didn´t want to wake him up, he could barely wave him goodbye. He bites his lip, eyes stuck to the ceiling for a few minutes, arms and legs open wide, taking the entire bed.

Still sleepy, but slightly hungry, Timothée pushes himself up and rushes to the bathroom. He pees, washes his face and stares at himself in the mirror, pulling on his curls and debating whether or not it´s time to get a haircut. He shakes his head, exits the bathroom and makes his way to the kitchen, frowning as he notices a post-it lying on the counter.

_ I know you are probably gonna be mad at me, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I couldn´t bear to wake you up. There´s an omelette in the oven, coffee and orange juice. Take care of yourself and text me if anything happens, I will do my best to answer it. _

_ See you on Monday afternoon _

_ Love you _

Timothée smiles, stuffs the post-it on the pocket of his sweatpants and turns on his heels, reaching for a mug and plate. He heats up the omelette and coffee, grabs a fork and heads over to the living room, turning on the television before taking a seat on the couch. His eyes survey the house until he finds Archie lying next to the counter, a little smile spreading across his lips.

"C´mon, boy," he pats his thigh, watches as Archie rushes over to him and jumps on the empty space beside him, snuggling himself as close as possible. “It's just you and me this weekend.”

Timothée smiles, a hand resting on top of his head as he flips through the channels, trying to find something worth watching. He takes a few bites of the omelete, sips on his coffee and places his feet up on the coffee table, gently stroking Archie´s fur.


	43. Guess Who´s Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so pleasant comeback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I know it´s been a while, but as some of you who follow me on tumblr must know, my grandma was hospitalized and had to go through surgery, so that´s why I disappeared for a bit. She´s home now, but the work is far from over, so I´ll update, but it might not be as frequently as I would like. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Timothée exits the bathroom, his hair slightly damp and a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He walks over to the armchair by the side of the bed, zips up the backpack and reaches for clean sweatpants and a hoodie, which he swiftly puts it on. He dries off his hair and sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes wandering around the bedroom. He gets up, throws the towel to the ground and walks over to the bookshelf, going through some of the books Armie has stored there. He smiles to himself, finding it slightly annoying how he already misses him.

_ It's been about seven hours, dude, get a grip _ . He chuckles at himself, grabs one of the books and stuffs inside his backpack, promising himself he will read it later. He grabs his phone, checks for any messages on his way to the living room and sinks down to the couch, a loud sigh escaping him as he does so. He hooks up the wires for the video game, chooses something he can play on his own without getting bored and hits play.

It doesn't take long for Archie to follow him and lie over his feet, his head moving from the television up to him whenever he grunts or curses. He chuckles, pats his head and then focuses back on the game, doing his very best not to get...

The doorbell goes off all of a sudden and Timothée groans as he dies, a precious life lost. He sighs, hits pause and pushes himself up, nearly tripping on Archie, who refuses to leave his side. He shakes his head, picks him up in his arms and walks over to the door, a wide smile spreading across his face as he sees Chris and Zoe standing there, each one of them holding a paper bag on their hands.

"Well, I see you decided to take my offer after all."

"Yeah, I figured there were better ways to spend my Saturday than mourning a break up at home, completely alone."

"Not only that, she got hungry and knew if she ordered food for herself she would end up eating too much," Chris adds, earning a shove from Zoe. "You know damn well that I am not lying."

"Oh, just shut the fuck up."

"Woman can't stand the truth," Chris shrugs, quickly patting Timothée's back as he walks past him and inside the house. "We brought burgers, fries and some very special brownies, if you know what I mean."

Timothée smirks, closing the door behind him and setting Archie down on the floor. He watches as he walks over to Zoe and tangles himself in between her legs, only to lick all over her face once she kneels down to pet him.

"You have any booze?"

"Always," he quickly replies, opening the fridge to get some beers. "Armie never leaves that fridge empty, so we have enough beers to keep us wasted for the whole weekend. Although, if that brownie is as special as you claim, we might not need them."

"That's true," Chris smirks, taking the food out of the bags and setting them down on the counter. "Zoe, you coming to eat or you're gonna spend the weekend with Archie?"

"I just love this dog so much," she smiles, hopping on one of the stools. "He's so fucking chill all the time, I wonder how Armie managed that."

"Apparently he has always been quite chill," Timothée explains, reaching for a french frie, which he stuffs in his mouth. "But truth be told, Archie here is getting old. Which sucks, because I really don't want to see how Armie is gonna get once he is no longer around."

"I think there's a long time before that happens, dude."

"Hope you are right."

"Have you talked to him today? Or are they far into the woods and without a sign?"

Timothée sighs, sliding one of the beers towards Zoe as Chris hands him one of the burgers.

"We texted briefly earlier, but he said the signal is pretty bad where they are."

"That's how camping works," Zoe chuckles. "I mean, the idea is to be disconnected from the rest of the world, isn't it?"

"Yep, which is a concept I can't really understand."

"Camping is not that bad, you just never fully gave it a chance, Tim. Or maybe you didn't have the right people around you when you did it, that is an important part of it, to be honest."

"Chris, the last time I went camping was with Armie, and if he can't make camping fun for me, I doubt anyone else can."

"You got a point," he chuckles. "I remember how annoyed you were with the whole thing, you complained for days."

"Armie still mocks me about it."

Zoe chuckles, her eyes wandering around the house for a brief moment before stopping by the television. She smirks, grabs her beer and burger and heads to the living room, sitting on the ground and placing the things down on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?"

"You started this game, it would be a shame to leave it unfinished," she shrugs, glancing over at them at the kitchen. "Unless you two want to join me here and we can get some nice competition going."

"What was the last time we played video games?"

"Together?," Timothée questions with a shrug. "Probably back in college."

"And Armie has a great sound system, it really would be a shame to let the opportunity pass us by."

Chris smirks, grabs his food and rushes to Zoe's side, grabbing one of the consoles to himself.

"You coming or not, Timmy?"

Timothée chuckles, stuffs his mouth with fries and runs over to his friends, sitting in between them on the floor.

"You guys are gonna lose and regret even thinking this was a good idea."

"You wish."

"Okay, you two, just pay attention to the thing, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," they say in unison, earning a glare from Zoe. "Hit play."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


There's music playing low and the moonlight comes in through the large windows. While Archie lies peacefully by the stairs, Timothée and his friends remain in the living room, each one of them sprawled in a different place. The bag of brownies still lies on the coffee table, now completely empty, which explains the state they are in, eyes up to the ceiling, loose smiles and relaxed bodies.

Timothée is by the couch, legs up to the backrest, his finger twirling a curl, his mind drifting off to Armie over and over again. He smiles as he remembers their first meeting, how they simply stared at one another for a long minute, no words shared. He bites his lip, quite surprised at how far they have come, proud of himself for all he accomplished in the past four months of his life.

And it might just be the weed doing its work here, but Timothée sure feels like time has passed in a much different way. Four months seem like years.

"...is this true, Mr. Chalamet?"

"Huh?," Timothée finally snaps out of his trance, leaning on his elbows so he can look at his friends, who stare back at him with smirks on their faces. "I didn´t listen to a single word you said."

"I said how cute it is that you are now acting as if this is also your house."

"Zoe, cut the crap, that´s not what I am doing."

"You kind of are," Chris chimes in, shrugging his shoulders. "You have told me more than once to meet up at the house and, I often find myself wondering if you mean your apartment or this place, so I guess lines are getting blurred."

"Well, he is my boyfriend, ain´t he? I don´t see what the fuss is all about."

"There´s no fuss," Zoe says with a chuckle, sitting up straight, her back leaned against the armchair. "We are just messing with you, but also acknowledging the fact you are changing, embracing this whole relationship thing."

"Well, with the boyfriend he has, I would embrace everything he offered."

Timothée throws a cushion over at him, shaking his head as Chris laughs, shrugging his shoulders.

"What? I´m just acknowledging how good looking your boyfriend is."

"Exactly, my boyfriend, so back off."

"He's all yours."

"Yes, he is," he smirks, lying back down on the couch.

"Also," Zoe says, reaching for the bottle of water that now lies on the ground next to the coffee table. "If my boyfriend had a house like this one, I would also try to claim it as mine. Dude has good taste, huh?"

"Not that much if he's dating Tim."

"You´re begging me to kick your ass, aren't you?"

"Would like to see you try, my friend."

Timothée shoots him a glare, then turns to Zoe, a little smile on his lips. "This is the house his father grew up in. His grandmother left it to him after she died and once he was done with college he moved right in. I mean, after demolishing all the walls, of course."

Zoe chuckles, eyes wandering around the place. "I do wonder how someone can live in a place with so little privacy. I mean, you guys can´t even have sex when his dad is around, because he would hear every single thing."

"And Timmy is a screamer."

"Of, for fuck´s sake."

"Are you seriously gonna tell me I am wrong?," Chris protests, sitting up. "I had sex with you more than once, I know how loud you can get, buddie."

"It´s been ages since we last had sex, Chris, I might have changed."

"Or maybe Armie likes to keep him quiet by force."

Timothée frowns, shaking his head. "You guys had way too much of that brownie, huh?"

"I don´t know, I think it's wearing off already, to be honest."

"Oh, so you´re just honestly curious about my sex life?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"You sick woman," he chuckles, ducking as she throws a cushion to him. He sticks his tongue out, pushes himself up and heads over to the kitchen, kicking Chris on his way over. He opens the fridge, a frown as his eyes flip through the contents, until he moves to the freezer, a wide smile as he sees an ice cream container. "Anyone want some ice cream?"

"Yes," Chris and Zoe shout in unison as Timothée chuckles, reaching for a few spoons before rushing back to the living room.

"Fancy a movie?"

Zoe shrugs. "I could get on board with that, but I want a horror film or something. I´m done with romances and drama for a little bit."

"Horror it is."

* * *

  
  
  


Timothée wakes up to the sound of heavy machinery outside, the loud thumping echoing in the otherwise quiet Sunday morning. He groans, lifting his head up from the pillow, his hand searching the bed for Archie, who nestled himself as close to him as possible the previous night, as if trying to make it up for the lack of Armie. He notices he is far gone and leans on his elbows, heavy eyes wandering around the bedroom.

The curtains of the windows above the bed were never closed the night before and the sunlight, although not very intense, comes through and illuminates the entire room. He pouts, a little groan escaping him as he moves around the bed, lying on his back. He stares up at the ceiling, lets out a yawn and rubs his face, trying his best to get rid of the pounding in his head.

Zoe and Chris stayed until one in the morning, and although the effect of the edible brownies wore off way before that, they still had quite a lot of fun with all the beers Armie had left of his fridge. The result, not even one bit surprising, was a headache like he had not felt in ages.  _ Not entirely true, or have you forgotten about your little post break-up shenanigans,  _ he groans at the mere thought, burying his face in his hand.

He absolutely hated hangovers, but it seemed like he never remembered that before the drinking happened.

He kneels on the bed, peeking through the window to see what's going on outside, but can't really catch a good glimpse. He crunches his nose, sits back down and glances to the bedside table as his phone starts vibrating, the sound reverberating through the bedroom. He reaches for it, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he sees a message from Armie.

**_< armie>_ ** _ hope everything is good over there _

_ i miss u _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ i got a hangover and i miss you _

_ but other than that... all good _

**_< armie>_ ** _ hangover?? _

_ guess the weekend with friends turned out better than expected, huh?? _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ guess u could say so _

**_< armie>_ ** _ there is aspirin on the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet _

_ take one if u need _

_ drink lots of water too _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ i happen to know how to get rid of a hangover _

**_< armie>_ ** _ u try to be a good bf _

_ and thats what u get _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ u r a great bf already _

_ no need for that ;) _

**_< armie>_ ** _ in that case... fuck u _

Timothée laughs, shaking his head as he reads the message over and over again. He bites his lip, trying his hardest to suppress the smile that consumes him.

**_< timothee> _ ** _ jesus _

_ no need to go there _

**_< armie>_ ** _ no _

_ i meant _

_ fuck u _

_ as in _

_ i want to fuck u _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ im down with that _

_ but u need to come back home before that happens _

**_< armie>_ ** _ just one more day _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ technically one and a half _

_ but whos counting _

**_< armie>_ ** _ whos counting _

Timothée leans back, a sigh escaping him as he stares down at the phone. He leaves the messages, moves his finger around the screen until he reaches his photos, scrolls through them and then stops, opening one of Armie. He's staring at the camera, eyes wide open and a cheeky grin on his face, the sunlight hitting him and making his hair look even more blond than usual. He sets it as his background, his cheeks flushed all of a sudden. Sometimes Armie makes him feel like a high school boy in one of those silly movies, but he has to admit he likes it.

**_< armie>_ ** _ i need to go now _

_ we are going hiking _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ u r insane _

**_< armie>_ ** _ maybe _

_ but u like me anyway _

**_< timothee> _ ** _ that is true _

_... _

_ be careful _

_ dont do anything stupid _

**_< armie>_ ** _ dont worry _

_ i will be alright _

_ see u monday _

**_< timothee>_ ** _ see u monday _

_ love u _

**_< armie>_ ** _ love u _

Timothée sighs, a little smile on his face as he tosses the phone back to the bedside table. He pushes himself up, rushes to the bathroom and looks for the aspirin, taking it in his mouth and swallowing dryly. He shakes his head, takes off his clothes and hits the shower, allowing the warm water to fall down his body, washing away the rest of sleep he still has in.

He exits the bathroom, putting on some clean clothes and rushes to the kitchen, going through the fridge and cupboards in search of something to eat. He grabs some eggs, cheese, ham and spices, mixing them all in a bowl before throwing it on a frying pan. He leans against the oven, yawning as his eyes find Archie, who walks over to him. It's strange how at ease he finds himself at Armie's place, almost as if it was his own.

Maybe Zoe's mocking isn't so far fetched after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée opens his eyes, a loud sigh escaping him as he gives up trying to get any more sleep. He looks up to the ceiling, the daylight coming in through the windows and creating a few patterns, which he gladly stares at for long minutes, allowing his imagination to run free. He rolls over, eyes catching a glimpse of the clock by the bedside table, where six thirty is displayed in big block letters. He had a restless night, a couple of naps here and there, but he never actually managed to get some proper sleep, something inside of him keeping him awake.

The biggest problem? He had absolutely no idea what was keeping him so restless, otherwise he would have tried his best to deal with it.

Bored and aware that staying in bed won´t get him anywhere, Timothée pushes himself up and goes straight to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to wash out the tiredness that has consumed his body. He feels even more tired after hours trying to sleep than he was when he first went to bed. Ironic, huh?

He exits the bathroom already dressed, drags himself to the kitchen, petting Archie´s head on his way over. Just like the previous morning, he goes through the fridge and cupboards, trying to decide what to do for himself in such a cold Monday morning. It´s snowing, he is moody and he needs something to boost his energy, so he prepares himself some hot chocolate, waffles and makes himself a grilled cheese, using some of the fancy types Armie insists on buying from time to time.

He eats it all in silence, checking his phone for any possible messages or emails. By the time he is finished, it´s almost eight and he pushes himself up, washing the dishes and heading back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He wastes a few minutes trying to find his bag, makes sure Archie has food and fresh water, and only then leaves the house, locking the door behind him.

The streets of Brooklyn are coated with a thin layer of snow, the sky is dark grey and if the weatherman is right, it will get colder by the end of the day. He fumbles with his keys, stuffs them on his pocket and fixes the scarf around his neck before bracing the streets and the snow. Leaving his car back at the apartment doesn´t seem like such a good idea anymore and although he is sure Armie wouldn´t mind him lending the Jeep, he chooses to take the subway.

He is expected to be on the magazine at nine, the subway station is fairly close to their building and if everything goes right, he will even have some time to stop by La Cafeteria, buy himself -and Zoe- some hot beverage to help ease the cold. Maybe the day won´t be as bad as his night was.

When he arrives in Manhattan, Timothée is already feeling a lot better with himself and rushes down the street towards La Cafeteria, hoping the place won´t be too crowded. Although he brags of the fact not many people have caught up with the wonder that is La Cafeteria, Timothée knows that on extremely cold days, the place can get packed.

He's just about a block away when he stops in front of an art gallery, the movement inside catching his attention for some reason. He takes a few steps closer, hand resting on the glass window as he looks inside, noticing that while men come in and out carrying heavy pieces, he can only imagine are paintings, two men talk inside. He frowns, his heart already beating faster as he stares at one of the men, realization slowly sinking in. He swallows dryly, his lips quivering and his hands turning into fists so tight his knuckles turn pale. He can´t believe what he is seeing.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, his eyes wandering around the quiet house. He notices Archie sleeping by the stairs, his absolutely favorite place to lie, then walks over to the living room, setting his bags down on the couch. The kitchen is clean, the television is off and there is no laptop in sight; he can see the bed is made and there´s no sign anyone is in the bathroom.

He grabs his phone, checks his messages and notices there´s nothing from Timothée. Actually, he hasn't texted him all day, which sure isn't something common. They have texted each other at least once a day every day since they got back together, so the fact Timothée is in such a silence feels odd.

Confused, but also tired, Armie heads off to the bathroom to take a shower, the warm water running down his body and helping him relax his muscles. He sighs, rubs his face and wonders what could have happened. Maybe Timothée and Zoe had some kind of issue at the magazine, or maybe he has run out of battery. The latter sure seems less probable, but Armie doesn´t want to worry too much about any of this. He's certain there's a reasonable explanation for it all.

He exits the bathroom, checks his phone once again and frowns. He puts on some clean clothes, grabs his jacket, puts on his shoes and grabs his keys on the couch on his way out, rushing to the Jeep. He drives down the road, knowing he could walk the few blocks that separate him and Timothée´s apartment, but the snow is still falling and it´s getting colder by the second. He rather enjoys the warmth of the car while he can.

He parks outside Timothée´s building, taking a quick look through the window to see if he can spot any light coming from his apartment. He sighs, gets out of the car and crosses the street, stopping by the gate until it opens. He waves at the doorman as he makes his way inside, hands now tucked inside his pockets, keeping them warm.

The elevator ride seems to take way longer than usual, people walking in and out on almost every single floor. He smiles at some of them, waves and gives the occasional  _ hello  _ to people he has seen enough to know their names. Once he finally reaches Timothée´s floor, Armie rushes out of the elevator and down the hallway, stopping by the door, on which he knocks.

"Tim?!"

He waits for an answer, but hears absolutely nothing.

"Tim?! Are you there?!"

With a frown, Armie presses his ear against the door, trying his best to hear something, but it seems there's absolutely no sound coming from inside the apartment. He sighs, grabs his keys and opens the door, poking his head inside. He walks in, looking around the living room and kitchen, then inside the bedroom and bathroom, his concern growing more and more as he realizes Timothée probably hasn´t been in the apartment the entire weekend.

He reaches for his phone, swiftly scrolls through his contact list and hits Chris´s name, pressing the phone against his ear as he waits for the call to be complete. He sighs, foot nervously tapping on the floor while he scratches his beard, his now concerned eyes stuck to the ground.

"Hello?"

"Hey Chris, it's Armie here."

"Hey, I was just about to call you."

"You were?"

"Yeah, I have been trying to talk to Timothée for a while now, but he seems to have disappeared. I was wondering if you know where he is."

"So you don't know where he is either?"

There´s a moment of silence and Armie feels his stomach doing cartwheels. Where the hell is Timothée?

"No. I texted him early this morning, but he never replied back, so I called Zoe and she said she has also been trying to talk to him, but had no response either."

"So he didn't make it to work?"

"No, he didn´t. When she realized he was late, she called to see if everything was okay, but he hasn't answered her ever since. I´ve been trying to call him for hours now, but when I realized you were probably back from the camping trip, I decided to try and talk to you."

"I got back about half an hour ago," Armie explains while walking over to the window, staring down at the street. "I went home and he wasn't there, although he said he would wait for me there. Now I´m at his apartment, but he clearly hasn't been here for a couple of days, so I'm starting to get really worried."

"Look, Timothée is smart, I'm sure whatever happened he is alright. I´m gonna call some other people, see if anyone else at the magazine might have seen or heard from him."

"Please, do that. I will drive around, see if I can spot him anywhere."

"He really loves going to the park when he is feeling a bit down, maybe there's where he is?"

"Maybe, but even if that is the case, there's no reason why he wouldn´t let people know he is alright."

"That's true."

Armie sighs, burying his face in his hand just as he finally remembers something that could help.

"You know what? I know a place he might have gone to hide for a while. I will check it out and let you know if I find anything, okay?"

"Okay. I´ll text you if I find anything."

"Thank you," he says before hanging up and rushing out of the apartment.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie parks the car just around the corner and leaves so quickly, he almost forgets to lock it behind him. He sighs, closes his eyes for a brief moment and tries to tell himself he needs to relax, otherwise he won´t be able to do anything. He walks down the sidewalk, eyes wandering around the street and his arms crossed as he tries to brace the cold weather.

He makes it inside the coffee shop and heads straight to the cashier, about to ask whether or not they have seen Timothée today when he spots a lonely customer on the far corner, head down and hoodie on, although some stray curls escape from underneath. He smiles, a sigh of relief escaping him as he realizes it is indeed Timothée sitting there.

He places his order anyway, waits until a small cup of hot coffee is in his hand and makes his way over, taking a seat across from Timothée, who looks up briefly at him before turning his attention back to the table. Confused, Armie sits there in silence for a minute, trying to understand exactly what might have happened to cause such a thing.

Timothée doesn´t look like himself right now.

"Chris and Zoe have been looking for you since this morning," he finally says. "They are worried about you."

"I just wanted to be left alone," he whispers back, his finger tracing a crack on the wooden table.

"Timothée, what is going on? Why have you been hiding here all day? Most importantly, why have you left us with absolutely no explanation on where you were?"

"I wanted to be left alone."

"I get that already, but you could have let them know you were okay. I just got back from the trip and got worried sick when I realized you were not at the house or at the apartment."

"I´m sorry," he says, although it is so low Armie can barely hear it.

"Tim, what happened?"

"My dad," he looks up all of a sudden, eyes filled with tears.

"Your dad? What happened to your dad?"

"He´s in New York."


	44. Dear Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter fourteen years in the making

Snow falls down in the streets of New York, while people rush around the sidewalk, heading to and off of work. Inside La Cafeteria, which remains practically empty, Armie and Timothée are sitting in silence, Timothée´s words still hanging in the air.

"Your father is in New York," Armie practically mumbles, his blue eyes stuck on the cup of coffee that sits in front of him at the table.

He did not expect to hear those words and he sure doesn´t know what to say, nothing seems quite good enough at the moment.

"Did he... I mean, how did...," he stammers, sighs and then leans closer to Timothée. "Did he contact you?"

"Of course not," Timothée replies, shaking his head. "I was walking to work, stopped in front of this random gallery and when I looked inside, I saw him standing there."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Nope," he quickly says. "I just stood there, staring at him for what felt like eternity and when I finally got back to my senses, I rushed here and have been sitting here since then."

"Why didn´t you talk to him?"

"And say what?," he finally looks up, green eyes filled with sadness and confusion. "It's been so long, Armie, I don´t even know where to start."

"Are you going to talk to him?"

"I...I don´t know."

Armie nods, reaching out to take his hands, holding it tight as he puts on his best, and most comforting smile.

"I get that you are overwhelmed right now, you didn´t expect any of this to happen and it's understandable that you are confused on what to do in this situation, but you also need to see the bigger picture here, Tim."

"Which is?"

"Your father is back in New York after years, you finally got the chance to sit down with him and talk, ask the questions you´ve been dying to do ever since day one. As the one question that has been eating away in your brain for all these years, I say it´s a shame to let such an opportunity slip away."

Timothée bites his lip, holding tight onto Armie´s hands as he lets his words repeat themselves in his brain over and over again. He is right, he has the opportunity to be face to face with his father, ask him everything he always wanted to ask and understand exactly what happened. And as far as he can tell, this is his first time in New York in the last fourteen years, it sure would be a waste to let him go without one simple conversation.

"Tim?"

"Yeah," he nearly whispers, just to make sure Armie knows he has heard him. He takes a breath, closes his eyes for a brief second and then finally looks him in the eye, nodding his head slowly. "I guess you are right. I should at least try to talk to him and see what happened, right?"

"I think you will be doing yourself a favor, to be honest. And after all these years, he owes you at least one honest conversation."

"But how do I find him? I mean, yes, he's in New York, but.. well, it´s New York."

"You saw him at a gallery nearby, right?," Timothée nods. "Then that's a big chance he's doing some sort of exhibit there, which means he will be there again. We can go there now and see if he's there, but he isn´t, you can always go back tomorrow."

Timothée nods, grabbing his coat and phone while he stands up. He looks down at Armie, cocking his eyebrows and smiles slightly as Armie chuckles, pushing himself up.

"I know I said we could go there now, I just wasn´t expecting it to be now now."

"I just want to get this over with already."

"No, you are right," he smiles, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he leads him out of the cafeteria. They walk down the street, Armie quickly noticing how nervous Timothée is, not only by his silence, but also by the fact he simply won´t stop fidgeting with his fingers.

Timothée stops abruptly, standing right in front of a small building, the words Art Gallery written above it and the large glass windows allowing them to peek inside. He takes a step closer, biting his lip as he realizes the place is empty, no signs of anyone being there for a while now. He sighs, glances at Armie over his shoulder and feels his eyes fill up with tears.

Armie walks over to him, embracing him in his arms, his hands stroking his back slowly as he plants a tender kiss on the top of his head. He absolutely hates to see him like this.

  
  


* * *

Timothée steps out of the shower, reaching up for the towel on the hanger and tying it around his waist. He runs his fingers through his hair, standing in the front of the now fogged mirror, his brain going a million miles per second. He slides his hand through the mirror, his reflection sudden coming to view and he can already see the tears that are threatening to fall.

For the past fourteen years, all he could think about was why his father left, why he would turn his back on him and never even call, not even send a birthday card. And truth be told, he acted out many different scenarios where they saw each other again, where they talked, fought, patched things up and went their separate ways. But even so, nothing had truly prepared him for the real deal, and now he was left confused and overwhelmed.

There was so much to ask himself now. Was it really worth it going after him? Should he tell his mother that his father was suddenly back in town? How would that affect her if he did? How would that affect him?

He sighs, dries himself up and puts on some clean clothes, closing the bathroom door behind him. He pushes his curls back, eyes falling on Armie, who is sitting on the bed, laptop open in his lap. When he notices him, Armie quickly closes the lid, tossing it to the side. Confused, Timothée crosses his arms, slowly taking a step closer to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Please, don't be mad at me."

Timothée frowns, suddenly even more nervous.

"That depends on what you are doing, so just tell me."

"I told him the name of the gallery you had seen him in, so he did his thing and found out a couple of things."

"What kind of things?"

"Well, he's here because he has an exhibit coming up. It hasn't been announced yet, but they are planning to do it the next couple of days. Apparently it will last two weeks, but we can´t be sure he will be here for all of it, so we can either go back to the gallery tomorrow and try to talk to him or we can try to get him in his hotel."

"Taylor found out what hotel he is staying in?"

"He's quite good at this hacking thing," Armie shrugs, biting his lips. 

Timothée simply nods, his eyes distant as he tries his best to process everything he just heard. He rubs his face, lets out a heavy sigh and nearly breaks down when he feels Armie´s arms wrap around him, his hand stroking his hair.

"Hey, you´re going to be okay."

Timothée looks up, gripping onto Armie´s sweater as he tries to put on a smile.

"It just...," he shakes his head. "This whole thing feels like a lot right now, you know? I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"I know. I mean, I can´t really understand what you´re feeling right now, but I know it's probably not easy to see him again, have all those feelings being brought back to the surface."

"They were never that hiden, to be honest. But things have been going so well lately, you know? I thought that my life was finally on the right track."

"Timothée, your life is on the right track, this is not gonna change that," Timothée sniffs, nods his head and Armie smiles, tucking a few curls behind his ear. "You're going to tell your mother?"

"I don't know yet."

"You have time."

"Not really," he shakes his head, taking a step away from Armie. "The exhibit will last two weeks, but like you said we don´t know if he's going to stay for that long and considering this is the first time he steps in New York ever since he left us, I doubt it. But I´m gonna try to talk to him, see how it goes and then I decide if I should or not tell my mother."

"Whatever you decide, I will be here for you, alright?"

"Thank you," he whispers, leaning on his tiptoes to kiss him. "And thank Taylor too."

"No worries, he loves doing hacker work."

Timothée chuckles, leaning his head against Armie´s chest, his arms now tightly wrapped around his waist.

"What you say I cook us something to eat? I have been in the middle of the woods for the entire weekend and I'm craving for some nice, homemade meal."

"See? Camping is not that great."

"The food is my least favorite part, but I still like the experience."

"Weirdo," he whispers, chuckling as Armie grabs his hand, twirls him around and then pulls him with him to the kitchen. He grabs Archie, places him on his lap as he sits down on a stool and watches as Armie wanders around the place, reaching for bowls and pans.

Whatever happens, at least he got Armie.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie dries up the last plate and places it back on the cupboard, closing the door as he glances around the now clean kitchen, letting out a sigh. He tosses the cloth in the counter, rubs his face and makes his way over to the front door, checking to see it's locked.

His eyes find Archie, who sleeps peacefully at his favorite spot by the staircase, smiles and then makes his way through the house, checking on the windows and turning off the lights. Once in the bedroom, he leans against the iron and glass partition, his arms crossed as he watches Timothée for a moment.

He can't even begin to imagine the amount of stress he is going through at the moment, the infinite questions he has inside his head and all the emotions that must be about to burst out of him any second. His father's absence was one of the reasons why Timothée closed off, kept people at a safe distance and didn't allow himself to get too involved. But now he was working through those issues, he was opening up and a part of Armie was scared that having his father back could jeopardize that.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhales deeply and tries his best not to let that particular thought get the best of him. He takes off his sweater and pants, throws it over to the armchair and smiles sweetly as Timothée looks up from his phone. They gaze at one another for a moment, a smile appearing on Timothée's lips eventually, although Armie can tell he still has a lot going on inside of him.

"Did you talk to Zoe and Chris?," Armie asks, putting on an old and rather worn out shirt.

"Yeah, I explained everything and they are willing to help anyway they can, although there's not really much to be done. Zoe also gave me the day off, so that's nice, I guess."

Armie nods, climbing on the bed and pulling the blanket over their bodies.

"It does give us time advantage," he explains. "I mean, we have all day to camp out outside the gallery and wait for your father to show up."

"About that," Timothée starts, fidgeting once again.

"You don't want to go after him anymore?"

"Is not that," he quickly replies. "I just think I should do this on my own, you know? I mean, I would love to have you there supporting me, but I think this whole thing will be a lot complicated as it is, so maybe it should be just me and him."

Armie smiles, turns on his side and cradles Timothée's face, his thumb gently stroking his cheek. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Timothée. You want to do this on your own? Go, do what you have to do, I'll be right here when you get back."

Timothée nods, arms wrapped around Armie's waist seconds later, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you."

"I just want what's best for you," Armie whispers, planting a kiss on his temple. "And if you think doing this on your own is what's best, then I'm with you one hundred percent. Just be careful and let me know if you change your mind, is that okay?"

"Yeah," Timothée nods, rubbing his nose as he sits up straight. "I'll keep you posted on everything, you don't have to worry about me."

"I know I don't have to, but I do it anyway."

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Timothée has his eyes stuck on the window, watching as the snow falls and people rush back and forth, some alone, completely lost in their own little world; while others are on the phone, talking nonstop, laughing and crying. He sighs, a lump on his throat ever since he opened his eyes that morning, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It's a weird day, one he had waited for years and yet, now that it had arrived, he dreaded it more than anything else in the world. He had absolutely no idea of how things would go down with his father and that scared him, because not knowing what to expect, also meant not knowing how to prepare himself. He didn't want to repeat what happened fourteen years ago, he didn't want that same kind of pain to consume him once more.

He had to keep his expectations low, it was the only way to guarantee he would get out of this without a scratch.

"Here is your latte and your sandwich."

Armie's voice is distant at first and it takes Timothée a second to realize he is actually standing there in front of him, blue eyes filled with worry as he watches him. He smiles, or at least tries to and nods, pulling the plate and mug closer to him as Armie sits down across from him. He watches him take a few sips of his coffee, bite down on his ham and cheese sandwich, his eyes wandering to the window from time to time too. Timothée knows Armie is also trying his best not to let it show how worried he is, but he knows him enough by now to notice the signs.

At least he has him by his side and if there's one thing Timothée knows, is that Armie will be there for him no matter what he needs.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"Yes," he takes a sip of his latte. "I know it's not going to be easy, but I know this is something I need to do on my own."

"Okay, I understand that."

"Thank you."

"I'll be meeting up with Lee after I leave here, he's going to help me with some photos, but it shouldn't take me more than an hour. I'll go straight home once I am done, so you can find me there, but if you need anything, and I mean anything at all, you call me and I´ll run over to meet you. Is that alright?"

Timothée smiles, leaning against the table so he can grab Armie's hand. "I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

"I don't need you to thank me or do anything, Timothée. I love you and I will do anything to make you happy, simple as that."

"I know and that's why I love you, because you're so kind and generous, you're so full of love and empathy. I can learn a lot from you."

"I don't think you need to learn much from me, you're doing just fine the way you are."

Timothée doesn't say anything back, he simply allows silence to fill the space between them, their fingers now intertwined as they gaze into each other's eyes. It feels good to have someone like Armie by his side.

"Have you thought about what you're gonna say to him?"

"I thought about this for most of the night to be honest, but I guess I'll just go with the basic,  _ hey dad, long time no see _ ."

Armie chuckles. "That is a good start."

Timothée scoffs, shaking his head. "I really don't know, so I guess I'll just see how it all goes."

"To be honest, I don't think anything you prepare beforehand is going to help much. You need to see how much he's willing to give to this conversation, only then you'll be able to figure exactly where to go and what to ask."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. It would be great if I could predict every word he said though, it would make my life a lot easier right now."

"Honestly?," Armie asks as Timothée raises an eyebrow. "I think you're handling this a lot better than you expected and I am really proud of you."

"You really think that?"

"I do," Armie assures him, gently squeezing his hand. "I also think that no matter what happens, you will handle it just fine. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Tim."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Armie nods. "Now, we should probably eat our breakfast, because we both have places to go."

"Can't confront my absent father with an empty stomach, can I?"

"No, you can't."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


There are many studies that explain how one can maintain himself calm in complicated situations, studies which Timothée has skimmed through once Armie left the coffee shop and he was left alone at the table. None of them had really helped or brought much insight, but he wasn´t exactly surprised with that. Even if he did search through those types of articles, he knew there was nothing he could read there that would get him to a state of calmness in a matter of minutes.

But maybe, all the pent up stress he had inside of him would come to use once he was face to face with his father, after all the man deserved to hear all of his frustrations and anger. It was the least he could do after all the pain he caused Timothée and his mother, after leaving him behind like he was nothing. Yeah, maybe anger would be his best ally.

Stopping just a few feet away from the gallery, Timothée watches as men walk in and out of the building, large boxes and covered canvas in their hands. He watches the whole thing for a minute, his heart pounding inside his chest and his breathing slightly labored. He closes his eyes for a brief second, inhales deeply and then slowly exhales, taking one step at a time, his mouth getting dry as he approaches the building.

Once he is standing in front of it, Timothée looks through the large windows, biting his lip as he notices the same two men from the day before standing there. One is his father, obviously, the other one must be the owner of the gallery. They are talking, standing right in the middle of the room, almost oblivious to the men that manage the art, which slowly fills up the building.

When the man excuses himself and walks away from his father, Timothée finally gains the courage to walk inside, his eyes wandering around the place, taking in little bits from the canvas that are spread around. He can´t see much, but everything seems very bright and colorful, quite different from what he used to see in his childhood. His father usually went for darker shades, which now that he comes to think about it, could be a hint of how he was feeling inside. New York, Lara and Timothée inspired darkness, while Los Angeles, his new wife and kids inspired light.

"Sir, we are still closed."

The voice brings Timothée back to reality and he looks up, realizing the man is now staring at him, a very serious, almost angry expression on his face. Timothée takes a few steps closer and watches as his father turns around, just now noticing there is someone else in the room.

Their eyes meet and for a second Timothée thinks he won´t be recognized, because the look on his father's face is so passive, it's nearly impossible to read. But then, it's like something ignites in his brain and Timothée can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows exactly who he is.

"Good morning, dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your messages of support towards me and my grandma. She´s doing good, so things are a lot better now, even if it´s still quite stressful. Hopefully, everything will be back to normal soon enough.


	45. For The Love Of A Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen years or fourteen days?

"Good morning, dad."

The words echo in the gallery as Timothée stands there, hands inside his pocket, eyes locked on Marc, who stares back at him with the exact same expression as before. It's almost as if the words didn´t affect him at all, which shouldn't really be a surprise to Timothée. He left, turned his back on Timothée fourteen years ago and never cared to send him a birthday card or make a quick call, why would the word  _ dad _ coming from lips do anything?

He bites his lip, notices the other man now standing awkwardly by his father's side, his eyes wandering from Timothée to Marc repeatedly. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have asked Armie to come with him, give him some support, because he was already on the verge of turning around and running away.

But why should he be the one to run away? He had done nothing wrong. He was there, always there, waiting for some contact, which never came. He had never left.

"Timothée."

His voice seems deeper than Timothée remembers and his hair surely has a lot more grey than before, but he is mainly the same man that tucked him in one night, only to run away minutes later.

"You haven't changed at all."

"Actually, I think I´ve changed quite a lot," Timothée replies, because it is the truth. He isn't the same ten year old boy that was left behind, he grew up and became a man on his own right, intelligent, fun, filled with skills and different interests; but he was also insecure, scared and filled with scars. "But of course you wouldn't know that, right?"

"I suppose not," is all that Marc says, shrugging. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?," Timothée scoffs, shrugging too. "Why are you here? Why come back to New York after all these years?"

"I am here for work."

"Yeah, I know that already. I have friends that figured out this was the best place to find you."

"Look," he sighs, closing the gap between them. "I understand that there must a lot that you want to ask me, but I have some business to deal with right now and I can´t give you the attention you deserve."

"That's an understatement," he mumbles.

"I don´t know about your schedule, but I am staying in New York only for a couple of days. Maybe we could meet up for a couple of drinks tonight at my hotel?," he smiles, reaches for his back pocket and pulls on a small business card, which he hands it to Timothée. "This is the hotel I am staying at, why don´t you go up there around eight? We will sit down and talk about everything that happened, I know you must have thousands of questions to ask me and I know I owe you all of those answers."

Timothée finds himself speechless, his green eyes wide as he stares at Marc, not entirely sure of what to do or say at the moment. Why on earth is he acting as if nothing happened? As if this is some random meeting by friends who haven't seen each other in a few days?

"I really wish I could talk to you right now, but I have a lot of places to go and it's not possible for me to postpone it. I will be waiting for you tonight though and we will sort everything out as we should have done years ago."

Still dumbfounded by the whole situation, Timothée simply stands there, watching as Marc turns to the owner of the gallery, exchanges a couple of words and then walks past him with a quick tap on his shoulder.

What the hell just happened?

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"That's it?,"Armie asks incredulous, staring back at Timothée, who sits across from him on the couch. "That's all he said to you?"

"He acted as if fourteen years were fourteen days, Armie. I could barely say anything back, because I couldn't really believe what was happening," he sighs, shaking his head before he buries his face in his hands. He rubs his eyes, inhales deeply and looks back up, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I should just forget about all of this, you know? Pretend I never saw him and just go on with my life. I mean, I managed to do it for the last fourteen years, I can do it for the rest of my life."

Armie frowns, aware of why Timothée would decide something like this, but still unsure this is the right path for him to follow.

"What?"

"You could do that, forget about this whole thing and go on with your life."

"But?," he says, arching an eyebrow. He knows Armie well enough to know there's a lot more he wants to say.

"But what happens if you regret later on? Will you really be able to live the rest of your life asking yourself what could have happened if you did go to that meeting, if you did talk to him? I know it's a lot on your plate right now, I know you are confused and maybe even scared, but you need to think things through before making a final decision, Timothée."

"He said he's here only for a couple of days."

"And then he will be back to Los Angeles, or God knows where and you might never see him again," Armie sighs, gets up from the coffee table and sits down beside Timothée on the couch. "That's why I'm asking you to take some time and think about this very carefully. I don't want you to regret any of this later on, alright?"

Timothée nods slowly, squeezing Armie's thigh as he closes his eyes and takes a deep and long breath. He looks back at Armie, trying to put on a smile and then buries his face in his chest, hugging him as tight as humanly possible.

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna suffocate me," Armie chuckles, wrapping his arms around him. He pushes some of his curls back, kisses his forehead and then smiles as Timothée pulls away slowly, his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. "Do you want to go for a walk? Get some fresh air and maybe have lunch somewhere nice? It might help you clear your head for a minute or two."

"Yeah, that might be good."

"Then let's go," he gets up, hand out for Timothée to take it. Once he gets up, Armie pulls him close, planting a soft and quick kiss on his lips. "Remember that I am here for you no matter what happens or what you decide, okay?"

"I know that," he whispers while nodding. "And I thank you for it."

"I love you, Tim, I just want what's best for you."

"I love you, too."

Armie nods, winks down at him and then wraps an arm around his shoulder, leading him to the front door and out of the house.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée steps under the shower, the warm water hitting his head and sliding down his naked body as he closes his eyes, his fingers running through his hair and pushing the curls back. He sighs loudly, a million different thoughts fighting for attention, each little voice inside his head screaming louder than the other. He is tired, overwhelmed and despite everything Armie tried to do to ease out his stress, still confused as hell.

He fears for the worse, knows deep inside himself that Marc doesn't really care about him, or else he would have tried to get in contact with him throughout the last fourteen years. But he also knows Armie is right and that if he doesn't try, he might spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he went there, if he sat down with him and tried to get something out of him.

None of the options seems good enough, to be quite honest, both of them can cause pain and suffering, both of them can force Timothée down a path he is fighting to get off completely. He doesn't want Marc´s reappearance to cause him to shut down from the world again.

He closes his eyes, inhales deeply and then turns off the shower, stepping out as he reaches for a towel, with which he swiftly dries off his body. He puts on some clean underwear, grabs his jeans and sweater and quickly throws it on, stopping by the mirror afterwards. He bites his lip, stares intensely at the reflection and it's almost as if he can see his ten year old self there, tears falling down his cheeks as he wakes up to the news of his father being gone.

He owes that kid the truth about what happened.

He exits the bathroom with a much more clear look in his eyes, the expression of someone who has finally found some enlightenment. He sits on the bed, quickly puts on his boots and then grabs his bag and coat, holding them on his arm as he rushes to the living room, where Armie is sitting on the couch, eyes focused on his laptop.

"I'm going there."

Armie looks up, an eyebrow arched at first, but then swiftly his expression changes into one of understanding. He nods, closes the lid of the computer and sets it aside as he gets up, closing the gap between the two of them.

"You sure you want to do this alone?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"Do you want me to drive you there? I can wait in the car."

Timothée goes to say something, but stops himself, frowning for a moment, before he sighs.

"Maybe that's a good idea," he says. "God knows what might happen there."

"Okay, let me just grab my keys, alright?"

Timothée nods and leans against the couch, rubbing his hands on his jeans as they start to sweat, his nerves getting the best of him. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and nearly jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder, cursing at himself when he turns around to face Armie.

"Sorry."

"Tim, you can do this some other time."

"No, I can´t."

"He said he's staying here for a couple of days and now you know exactly where he is staying, you can do this some other time, there's no need to rush into a situation you´re still not prepared for."

"I might never be prepared for this, Armie, so I better just rip off the band-aid."

Armie nods, cradling his face in his hands. "Okay, then let me tell you just one more thing."

"What?"

"Who you are has absolutely nothing to do with him. Despite his selfishness and all the pain he caused you, you turned out to be the best man I have ever known, don't let him crush that or make you doubt that any second, you hear me? As far as I'm concerned, when he left, he was the one who lost something precious, not you."

"I fucking hate you," Timothée mumbles, before hugging Armie, his head resting against his chest. "Thank you for being so supportive of me throughout this whole thing."

"How many times will I have to tell you that I love you and will always be here for you?," he asks, planting a kiss on the top of Timothée head.

"I don't deserve you," Timothée replies, shaking his head. "But I´m so not letting you get away from me."

Armie chuckles. "Who says I want to?"

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Large glass windows allow the moonlight inside the room, the black and white decor, mixed with the minimalist aspect of the furniture creating a fancy, but still laid back atmosphere to the place, which has about two dozen round tables spread around and a large bar, where bartenders spend their time preparing the most exquisite selection of cocktails.

Sitting alone in one of the tables, Timothée leans his elbows against the table, his phone in hand while he scrolls through Instagram, trying to keep his mind off of the fact Marc is nearly an hour late to their meeting. He sighs and locks his phone, placing it back on the table as he reaches for his drink, taking a few sips of it while leaning back on the chair.

His eyes wander around the place, noticing new faces have arrived and people he had seen when he first arrived, had already left the room. He bites his lip, rubs his hands together and checks his phone once again, his eyes locked on the block numbers that tell him the time. Maybe he should ask someone on the front desk about him, make sure everything is alright. Or maybe this is a sign and he should rush out of the hotel, get in the car and tell Armie to drive as far away from that place as possible.

He shakes his head, finishes his drink in one go and shivers as the burning liquid runs down his throat. He grabs a few peanuts, tosses to his mouth and leans his chin against his palm, eyes now focused on the two musicians that sit on the small stage across the room, playing soft jazz. He closes his eyes, lets the music fill his ears and smiles, his body relaxing, even if just for a brief moment.

When the phone starts vibrating, Timothée quickly reaches for it, sighing as he realizes it´s a message from Armie, asking if everything is okay. He unlocks his phone, clicks on the message, but lets his fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure if he should say anything. He frowns, sends him a thumbs up and then quickly locks the phone back again, tossing it back to table.

"Can I get you anything else, Sir?"

Timothée looks up, nods his head and watches as the waiter takes his empty glass away. He rubs his face, takes a couple of deep breaths and tries to focus his mind on something else, but finds it nearly impossible to do so. When the waiter comes back, placing another glass of Rum and Coke in front of him, Timothée smiles and thanks him, his voice coming so small, he can barely hear himself.

He sips on the drink, eyes distant as he blocks away everything that happens around him. There´s no more chatter and no more music, only his thoughts and the tinkling of the ice cubes.

_ Why on earth are you doing this to yourself? _ , he thinks to himself.  _ He is not coming and you know it _ , he closes his eyes, lets out a sigh and finishes his drink, throwing a couple dollar bills on the table before rushing out of the bar. He is about to head to the front door, but stops himself, his eyes wandering from the elevators to the front desk, where two women stand. He nods to himself, makes his way over and tries his very best to put on a smile on his face.

"Good night, may I help you with something, Sir?"

"Yes, I was looking for Marc Chalamet. We had a meeting scheduled for tonight, I was just wondering if...," he trails off, not entirely sure of how to phrase things. "I was wondering if I could talk to him."

"I´m afraid Mr. Chalamet left with his wife and kids around seven, Sir. He said he wasn´t sure of what time he would be back at the hotel, but I´ll let him know you stopped by."

"That won´t be necessary," he quickly says, trying to hold back the tears of anger that are forming in his eyes. "Thank you."

He marches out of the hotel with his hands turned into fists, a couple of tears streaming down his cheek as he makes his way to the parking lot, where Armie is waiting at the car. He spots it a few feet away from him, stops and takes a breath, wiping away his tears.

He walks to the car slowly, opens the door and gets in as fast as he possibly can, leaning his head back against the seat while he takes a couple of deep breaths. He can feel Armie´s stare, his hand resting on his thigh, but what he truly appreciates is the silence. He never pushes him, he is always patient and Timothée can´t really thank him enough for that.

"Should I drive home or is there anywhere else you want to go?"

"Can you make a stop at McDonald's? I want something to eat," he practically whispers, eyes still closed, but hand gently resting on top of Armie´s. "Then maybe we could drive over to the park? Sit down for a while and get some fresh air."

"We´ll do whatever you want to do."

"Thank you," he says, voice breaking down as he finally opens his eyes. He sniffs, rubs his nose and turns to look at Armie, who stares back at him with worried eyes, but a comforting smile on his lips. "He didn´t show up."

"I figured," is all Armie replies.

"The lady at the front desk said he left with his wife and kids at seven, made sure she knew he had no idea when he was coming back to the hotel and if that´s not him saying he doesn´t give a fuck about me, then I don´t know what it is."

Armie looks down, takes Timothée´s hand and plants a kiss on it before pulling him close, hugging him tight.

"I mean, what did I expect, right?," he mumbles. "He never cared, why would he do it now?"

"I´m so sorry."

Timothée shakes his head, lifting up his face to look at Armie. "You have nothing to be sorry about, you didn´t do anything. He is the one who should feel sorry for all that he put me through, but he clearly doesn´t, so I´m not gonna waste my time on him any longer."

Armie doesn´t say anything, he simply stares back at Timothée, who plants a soft kiss on his lips before sitting back straight.

"We can go now."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Armie kicks the fridge door close, pours himself a glass of water and drinks it all in one go, his blue eyes wandering through the now quiet and dark house. He places the glass on the sink, turns off the kitchen light and nearly drags himself across the house and over to the front door, which he makes sure is locked. He peaks through the window, notices it has started to snow once again, the thin layer of white in the empty street making it all seem a lot more gloomy.

_ It would make a great photo _ , he tells himself, certifying that the window is closed. He pulls on the curtains, looks over at Archie, who peacefully sleeps by the staircase and smiles softly, his little snore the only sound in the entire house. As he makes it back to the bedroom, he notices Timothée has finally managed to get some sleep, his peaceful expression and steady breathing quite a sight after such a heartbreaking night.

Armie wasn't stupid, the moment he heard Marc was in town, he knew there was a chance of Timothée getting out of this hurt, but he also knew there were things he desperately needed to know and only by talking to Marc he would accomplish that. Sadly, his first instinct was right and Marc turned out to be exactly the man he thought he would be.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Armie gently tucks a few stay curls behind Timothée's ear, fixes the blanket so he won't be cold and plants a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiles when Timothée hums something in his sleep, pushes himself up and is just about to take off his sweater when he sees the business card laying on the bedside table. He frowns, picks it up in his hands and lets his eyes wander to the bottom, where the hotel's address is. He takes one quick look at Timothée, then back to the business card, biting his lip. He sighs, takes off his wallet and places the business card inside; he will know what to do in the morning.


	46. Breaking Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let go of the ghosts of the past

On the last morning of November, the snow seems to have given a truce and a hint of Sun appears in the otherwise grey sky of New York City. But despite the small glow of Sun, the temperatures remain very low and the streets are still packed, people rushing from one side to the other, while stores start to put up their Christmas light.

Secluded inside the hotel, Armie sits quietly on one of the armchairs by the lobby, legs crossed and eyes attentive to the elevators, while he listens to the murmurs of the staff and the very few guests that leave the comfort of the five star hotel to brace the outside weather.

He sighs, a part of him still debating whether or not this is actually a good idea, or if he should have stayed away from all of this. How could he though? Sure, this wasn't his family or anything, but he had been there, he saw how things played out and just how much pain this had caused Timothée. He couldn't simply turn his back and pretend nothing happened. He couldn't ignore his feelings.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the elevator chime in the distance, raising his gaze just in time to see Marc Chalamet in all his glory. Sure, he had never seen him before, but one good look at him and Armie could easily spot the traces he shared with Timothée. He takes a deep breath, pushes himself up and intercepts Marc before he can reach the front door.

"Marc Chalamet?"

Marc stops, eyeing Armie up and down for a minute. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'm Armie Hammer, I would like to talk to you for a moment."

"Armie Hammer," he mumbles as if trying to recognize the name. "Mr. Hammer, if this is about my exhibit, you can talk to the gallery or wait until the opening. I won't be conceding any interviews until then, but I appreciate you coming here and..."

"I couldn't care less about your exhibit," Armie finally interrupts, a little cheeky grin on his lips. "You see, you might not know who I am, but I have heard a lot about you for the past four months. Although I have to admit, I wasn't exactly eager to meet you."

Marc frowns, takes a step back and crosses his arms, clearly confused, but also intrigued and a little bit intimidated by Armie's approach. But obviously, he would never allow him to notice that.

"Mr. Hammer, I'm a busy man, so if you have something to tell me, I suggest you do it already."

"You don't have to worry, Mr. Chalamet, I'll be brief," Armie assures him. "Like I said, you might not know who I am, but I have heard a lot about you. Your son, the one you ditched and pretended it didn't exist, happens to be my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yes, my boyfriend."

Marc nods. "Let me guess, after I didn't show up last night he asked you to come here and confront me?"

"No, he didn't ask me to do any of this. You obviously don't know, since you ignored him for the last fourteen years, but your son is not the kind of person who needs others to do things for him."

"Yet, here you are."

"I am here entirely on my own account, Mr. Chalamet," he sighs, looks around them for a second and then takes a step closer. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not going to allow you to play games with Timothée, not after all the pain you already caused him. If you have no intentions in being in his life, I suggest you tell him the truth, instead of pretending to care, only to let him down later on."

"Is this a threat, Mr. Hammer?"

"A threat? No, Mr. Chalamet, this is not a threat. This is a man who cares a lot about your son trying to make you understand that what you're doing is vile and will not be tolerated. You might have turned your back on Timothée, but he still has friends, a boyfriend and a mother that love him very much and will do everything they can to protect him."

"That's cute," he scoffs. "I wonder what he will think when he finds out you've come here to tell me all of this, specially when you say he doesn't need others fighting for him."

"You don't have to worry about that, I will tell him myself, because that's how our relationship works. We are honest with one another, we trust and rely on each other for everything. Maybe if you knew anything at all about the person your son grew up to be, you'd understand what I am saying."

As Marc remains quiet, simply staring back at him, Armie smiles and pats his shoulder before turning on his heels and heading out of the hotel. He stops by the door, takes in the fresh air and smiles at himself. He feels weirdly proud of himself for this.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"You did what?"

Timothée's voice echoes through the quiet house, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. Armie stares back at him from behind the counter, studying his expression for a moment; he doesn't seem mad, just outright surprised with the news and to be quite honest, Armie can't really blame him.

"I talked to your father."

"Armie, why on earth would you do that?"

Armie sighs, scratches his beard and takes a step closer to Timothée, his eyes down to him. "Look, I know I shouldn't have got myself involved in this, that I should've let the both of you deal with everything, but I simply couldn't sit down and watch you suffer because of him. I won't allow that to happen ever again, so you can hate me all you want, but I did what I thought was right."

Timothée bites his lip, closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head, a small smile appearing on the corner of his lips as he closes the gap between them, his hand resting on Armie's chest.

"Hate you? Are you serious right now?," he chuckles, playfully punching Armie's chest. "I could never hate you, Armie. I just..."

"What?"

"I just didn't want you to get caught up in the middle of all of this, you know? You and your father have been through a lot the last two months, the last thing you need is to get caught in my family drama."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I consider you family. Therefore, your problems are also my problems and I will do everything I can to stop you from getting hurt."

"Do you really have to be so perfect all the time?," he mocks, sliding his hands to Armie's neck. "I mean, can't you just be a little annoying from time to time? Say something stupid or slightly controversial, so I can hate you for at least a minute or something?"

"Sorry, can't do that."

Timothée chuckles, leaning on his tiptoes so he can plant a kiss on Armie's lips. "Thank you for having my back, even when you don't need to."

"I only did what I thought was best and I know that you would do the same in my shoes."

"You're probably right," he presses his forehead against Armie's, a smile on his lips as he holds onto his waist. "I love you."

"I know," he chuckles, watching as Timothée rolls his eyes. As he goes to punch him again, Armie grabs his hand, pulls him closer and kisses him, his free hand resting right above his ass. "I love you, too."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sighs, his head hanging from the arm of the couch, his eyes stuck to the ceiling and the music he had fought for, now only background noise. Archie is lying beside the couch, taking comfort in the little massage he is providing him, although after a few minutes, he has grown a little lazy. It's Saturday, him and Armie should be out, exploring the city and having fun; maybe he could help Armie in a little impromptu photoshoot, or maybe they could go to the movies and get a little freaky in the dark back row. Instead, he was stuck home with one recurring thought clouding his mind.

His father was back after spending fourteen years away from him, without even a message or a simple goodbye. He turned his back and forgot he existed, but if that itself wasn't enough, even now that they had been face to face, he treated him with indifference, as if he was nobody. And as prepared as he thought he was for the worse, Timothée never really expected him to be so goddamn cold. He was his son for God's sake, his own blood, his legacy on this planet and yet he didn't mean a thing to him. The ten years they spent together, the moments they shared and memories they created meant absolutely nothing to Marc.

_ How could he do that to me? _ , he asks himself while sitting up, his eyes wandering to the window by his right, catching a glimpse of the snow that keeps falling outside. When he was little, Timothée worshiped Marc, followed him everywhere, even endured his obsession with camping, because he absolutely loved to be with his father, to learn from him. Now as he thought about it, he realized that maybe all that time, he was the only one actually trying to maintain a relationship. Maybe even then his father didn't care.

He sighs, rubs his face and gets up, catching a glimpse of Armie upstairs. He has been stuck in the studio for over an hour now, editing photos that will be used on the travel magazine. Meanwhile, Timothée had told himself he would focus his mind on the last few things he had to deal with for the magazine's anniversary party, but he obviously had failed that simple mission he set up for himself.

He frowns, goes through the fridge in search of something to eat, but finds absolutely nothing. He bites his lip, hops on the counter and swings his legs back and forth, trying his very best to come up with something that might help him get distracted. Suddenly, a smile appears on his lips and he hops off, grabbing a bowl and a few ingredients on the cupboard. He turns the music up, dancing around the kitchen as he starts mixing up ingredients.

Timothée doesn't really know how much time passes, but when he realizes, Armie is standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked. He smiles, shrugs his shoulders and then turns on his heels, placing the tray with muffins on the oven. He throws the empty bowl to the sink, licks his finger clean and winks over at Armie, who remains in place, watching him with an amused expression.

"What?"

"Just happy to see you like this, that's all."

Timothée shrugs. "I figured I needed some distraction and then I remembered this muffin recipe my mom used to do, so I thought I should give it a try."

"Muffins, huh? Should I be scared?"

"Funny," he rolls his eyes. "This is the simplest recipe I have ever known, alright? My mom taught me how to do it when I was about eleven years old."

"Knowing your mother, if she trusted you with that recipe, it must be really simple."

"Wow," he shakes his head. "Remember when I said I couldn't hate you? I take it back."

Armie laughs, shrugging his shoulders. As the doorbell goes off and Archie barks, he frowns, walking over to it as Timothée turns his attention to the dirty dishes on the sink.

Before he can properly start though, he hears the voice and swiftly looks over his shoulder, a frown forming on his face. He cleans his hand, takes a breath and crosses the living room, standing behind Armie, who looks at him with concerned eyes.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you, of course."

"How did you even know where to find me?"

"I have my sources," he says, eyes turning back to Armie. "Mr. Hammer, nice to see you again."

"Sorry, I can't really say the same."

"Armie," Timothée lays a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head when he finally looks down at him again. "It's okay, I got this."

"I'll be upstairs," he says, taking a step back. "And just so you know, I can hear everything from there, so be careful what you say."

Marc scoffs, watching as Armie rushes up the stairs, taking Archie with him.

"Your boyfriend seems like the angry type."

"Quite the opposite actually, he is the sweetest man you'll ever meet. Of course, much like me, he is not very keen of people hurting the ones he loves."

As Marc nods, Timothée closes the door behind them, crossing his arms immediately after. He doesn't like this situation at all, he feels like he's being ambushed in the one place he feels most safe at.

"I would ask if you want anything, but I have a feeling this is going to be a very short conversation."

"You're probably right," he nods, looking around the place. "Nice place you got."

"This is Armie's house, but I have a feeling you know that, right?," he fakes a smile, taking a step closer to Marc. "I mean, with your sources and all."

"Timothée, I'm not here to argue with you."

"And what are you here for?"

"I owe you an apology for what I did yesterday, it wasn't very noble of me to leave you waiting like that."

"You owe me an apology for yesterday? That's it? What about the last fourteen years? What about all the pain you put me through, huh? I was this close to ruining my life because of the things you put me through, I destroyed what could have been great relationships because of the scars you caused on me, because of the fear of abandonment I got from you. Now you have the guts to come here and tell me you're sorry for what you did yesterday? What about all the things you haven't done the last fourteen years, dad? Are you sorry for that too?"

"I had my reasons."

"Oh great, I'm dying to hear them."

Marc shakes his head, a sigh escaping him. "Maybe one day you'll understand what it feels like to be trapped in a life you can't fit in, Timothée. Maybe one day you'll understand what it's like to be surrounded by people who don't understand you, who can't see your true potential."

"Oh, poor you. Yeah, it must be really hard to be so fucking selfish that you walk away from your son without even a goodbye."

"I didn't want to make things harder than they already were."

Timothée stares at him speechless, his blood boiling inside of him, a shiver running down his spine. He has never felt so angry in his entire life.

"I spent the last fourteen years suffering for you, but despite all the anger in me, I kept telling myself you probably had a valid reason to walk away. But now I can see it clearly and it was all vanity, right? You felt trapped by us, you left because you were too selfish to realize that your decisions had consequences in our lives, that you were hurting us. Because of you I kept my feelings buried so deep inside, I couldn't open up to anyone around me, not even my own mother, who nearly went crazy trying to give me the life I deserved."

"Timothée..."

"You almost ruined everything for us, you know that, right? Thankfully, we are a lot stronger than we give ourselves credit for and we made it through it all. And we did it without you, because we don't need you, maybe we never did."

"Timothée..."

"You can go now," he interrupts him, gesturing to the door. "You can go back to your art, to your wife and your kids. And I hope from the bottom of my heart, that they don't have to go through the same pain I went through when you decide this new life is too boring for you."

"You don't understand."

"Actually, I understand things perfectly now. My life was great before you showed up and my life will continue to be great when you leave, because I have everything I need to be happy already and you're not part of it. So, please, leave my house."

"I thought..."

"He told you to leave, Mr. Chalamet."

Marc looks up, his eyes meeting Armie's, who stares down at him with a stern look.

"Just go already," Timothée says, rushing over to the door, which he opens. "Please."

Marc nods, takes one last look at Timothée and then walks out, once again, without even looking back. Timothée slams the door shut and allows a loud sigh to escape him as he leans his back against it, his eyes now on Armie, who's walking down the stairs.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I did exactly what I had to do."

Armie nods and engulfs him in a tight hug, planting a kiss on the top of his head as Timothée grabs onto his shirt, keeping him close.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie frowns, zooms in the photo and then sighs, saving his edit and closing the program. He closes the lid of the laptop, tosses to the side and grabs a book on the bedside table, flipping through the pages until he finds the place where he left off. He fixes the pillows behind his back, crosses his legs and allows himself to get lost in the words, a small smile on the corner of his lips whenever he hits a scene he particularly likes.

He raises his gaze when he hears the bathroom door open, watches in silence as Timothée makes his way out and puts on his clothes before heading to the kitchen. He focuses back on his reading, although the noises that come from the kitchen are slightly distracting and he has the urge to look up every three seconds.

"Hey," Timothée's voice echoes and he raises his gaze once more, arching an eyebrow. "Are you in the mood to go out?"

"Are you?"

"Chris just texted me, him and Zoe are headed to a bar, I thought that maybe we could join them."

"If you're down for it, then count me in as well."

"Yeah," Timothée nods slowly while biting his lip. "I think that might be exactly what I need, you know? Get some distraction and push this whole thing behind me for good."

"I'll go shower then," he says, a little smile as he places the book down. "Should I text Lee and Taylor?"

"Of course, the more people the merrier."

Armie stares at Timothée, a mischievous expression taking him over as he walks over to him, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

"Does that work for the shower too?"

"I already showered."

"I am sure I can find a way to get you dirty again," he smirks as Timothée chuckles, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Armie grabs onto his thigh, pulls him up and forces his legs around his hips, his lips quickly finding Timothée's as he walks over to the bathroom, kicking the door close behind him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée laughs, swirling around the dance floor, his eyes closed and his curls falling into his now sweaty forehead. He rolls his shoulders, slides to the right and then the left, moves his feet in perfect synchrony to the beat of the music, which seems to speak to him and draw out all the best he's got inside of him.

After the last two days he had, going out with his friends, being able to focus his mind in something other than his family and more importantly, his father, made him feel almost like a brand new person. His worries were not important at the moment, all that mattered was the smile on his face and how fast his heart was beating. 

He had set himself free from all the shackles of the past, all the demons that had so for so long clouded his mind and kept him from seeing things clearly. There was so much more to life than just trying not to get hurt, there was so much more he could do and be once he allowed himself to feel things to the maximum. He was free.

"Come here," Armie´s voice is slow through the music, but enough for Timothée to hear it and grab onto his hand, smiling wide as he pulls him closer and twirls him around, keeping his back pressed against his chest, his large hands resting on his hips as they sway from one side to the other.

Timothée turns on his arms, wraps his arms around his neck, his fingers playing with his short chair. He leans on his tiptoes, pulls him closer and kisses his lips, chuckling as Armie allows a hand to slide down to his ass and squeeze it softly. He hits his chest, takes his hand and tries twirling him around, but as expected, it doesn't work as well as he wanted.

He lets out a breath, pushes his hair back and nods as Armie leans against his ear, asking if he wants something to drink. He gestures to the bar, follows Armie and leans against the wooden structure, fanning himself until Armie pushes a bottle of water in his direction. He takes a few sips, slides the bottle back to Armie and turns around, his eyes finding his friends in the middle of the crowd.

"Here you go," Armie hands him a bottle of beer and then grabs the other three, nodding towards the table they were previously sitting. "You have any idea of how great it is to see you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Happy," Armie assures him. "Being carefree and just enjoying yourself with nothing to worry about."

"Well, I still need to finish organizing the magazine party, but I guess one more day of procrastination on that end won't actually kill me."

"Zoe might," Armie chuckles as Timothée nods, taking a sip of his beer.

"Zoe might what, Mr. Hammer?," she asks, narrowed eyes and a sly smile on her red lips.

"How did you manage to hear that?"

"Zoe hears everything," Timothée mocks, while sliding down the seat after Armie, his body pressed against his. "But we were actually talking about the party."

"Thankfully, I have finished everything on my end and you don't have much left to do, which is great, since you´ve been quite slow with it."

"Hey," he protests. "I´m going through a lot, alright?"

"Yeah, of course."

Lee and Taylor join them seconds later, throwing themselves down in their seats with loud sighs. Taylor reaches for one of the beers, opens it and takes a few sips of it, a large smile on his lips afterwards.

"Gosh, I didn't realize how much I missed going out."

"You make it sound like it's been years since we went out," Lee rolls his eyes.

"Jesus, do you always have to kill my buzz?"

"Not my problem you keep talking shit."

Zoe chuckles, her eyes wandering from them to Armie, who shakes his head.

"Are they always like this?"

"Ever since they met," he sighs. "The thing is, they love each other so much it gets on their nerves."

Timothée smirks, watching as Lee and Taylor stop their argument to look over at Armie, nasty looks in their eyes. He glances over his shoulder, hearing Chris´s voice as he approaches their table, his shirt slightly open and his face flushed.

"Where the hell were you?"

"How much information do you want, my dear Zoe?"

"Okay, that's enough for me to know you were doing the nasty with some random guy."

"You know me so well," he bats his eyelashes, a little smile on his lips as he seats beside Timothée, stealing his beer. "He was hot and had such a beautiful voice, I couldn't control myself."

Taylor frowns. "Was that the same guy I saw you making out with half an hour ago?"

"Oh no, that was a different one."

"He's scoring more than all of us together," Lee complains, pointing to Taylor and Zoe, who chuckles, nodding her head. "You must teach us your way, Chris."

"Sorry, my dear, this is something that can't be taught," he winks, before turning to Timothée, a much more serious look in his face. "I know we should probably leave this subject for some other time, but I really need to ask you something."

"What?"

"Are you going to tell your mother what happened?"

"You know, ever since I saw my dad standing at that gallery, I have been debating whether or not to talk to my mom about it, but I have finally decided and I won't be saying a word to her."

"Why not?"

"She's been through a lot because of my father and now that she is finally turning her life around, seeking help for the problems she has and allowing herself to be more open to the world, it doesn't feel right to drop all of this on top of her."

"Don´t you think this can come back to bite you in the ass though?," Taylor questions. "I mean, what if she hears you and Armie talking about it?"

"Trust me, Marc Chalamet is not gonna be a recurring topic."

Timothée chuckles, nudging Armie, who shrugs his shoulders. "I know it can happen and if it does, I will explain everything to her, but for now, this subject stays with the six of us and that's all."

"I can understand that," Lee nods. "She spared you from all the trouble she could now it's your time to do it."

"Kind of like that. Besides, my father is not gonna be in our lives, so if there's a way to keep her from going through the same pain I went through the last two days, then I'm going to do everything I can to assure that.”

Armie smiles, wrapping an arm around Timothée ́s shoulder. “You're awesome.”

“I know.”


	47. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the road

Armie leans against the partition to the bedroom, arms crossed and a little sly smile on his lips as he watches Timothée put on yet another one of his sweaters, fingers running through his curls and pushing them back. He's somehow unaware of his presence, which quite amuses Armie, who remains there in silence, observing him and taking in every little one of his mannerisms.

As if he hadn't them all engraved in his mind already.

He bites his lip, walks over to Timothée and slides his hands down his waist, pulling him closer to his body as he leans his chin against his shoulder. Timothée smiles, leans back to plant a kiss on his cheek and then tries to walk away, but Armie simply chuckles, keeping him in place.

"C´mon, I need to finish my new article."

"You don't have to hand in that article until Monday, so I say you have more than enough time to focus on me."

"That's what I do most of the time, dickhead."

Armie smirks, turns him around in his arms and presses him against the wall, a hand sliding down his chest and stomach, gripping onto the hem of his sweater. He stares down at him and bites his lip, but gazes back up when he hears a wicked little laugh escape Timothée.

"You like what you see?"

"I do," he admits, pulling his bottom lip in between his thumb and index finger. "I do wonder how many more sweaters you´re going to steal from me, though."

"I'm not stealing anything."

"Oh really? Is that why every time you put one on, I never see them again?"

"That doesn't mean I am stealing them."

"Fine, you´re keeping them hostage at your place then."

Timothée tilts his head to the side, a cocky smile as he shrugs.

"Idiot."

Timothée crunches his nose, arms wrapping around Armie´s neck as he slides his hands down his sides, grips onto his thighs and pulls him up, forcing him to wrap them around his hips. He plants a couple of kisses down his exposed shoulder blade, then his shoulder, his neck, jaw and cheeks, paying close attention to every single freckle he sees there.

As Timothée grips onto his short hair, Armie squeezes his buttcheeks, his lip finally finding his in what begins as a sweet and delicate kiss, but quickly grows hunger and more desperate. He stumbles around the room, their laughter echoing when they fall on the bed, Armie hovering on top of Timothée.

He grips onto the sweater, pulls it off of Timothée in extraordinary speed, throws it to the ground and then leans forward, his tongue tracing all the way from his bellybutton to his jaw, a smile on his lips as Timothée moans his name softly. Armie then grips onto his pants, pulls it off along with his boxers and spreads his legs wide open, nestling himself in between them.

Staring down at him, Armie watches as Timothée licks his pink lips, the lust in his eyes quite evident. His hands travel up his leg, causing shivers to run through Timothée´s body, his hips instinctively thrusting up. He stops by his crotch, gently traces a finger down his cock and balls, watching Timothée squirm and grunt.

He bites his lip, his own cock growing hard inside his pants as he watches Timothée, who closes his eyes the moment his finger slides down his perineum and stops by his asshole. He presses his thumb against it, chuckling at the gasp that escapes Timothée, his legs trembling just a bit.

"Armie..."

His name echoes in the house while he takes off his sweater and pants, throwing them to the ground before he lies down in between Timothée´s legs, his tongue swirling around his cock head, the tip teasing his slit as he holds tight onto his thighs, keeping him from moving.

He teases him for a while, licking and kissing all over his cock, hearing Timothée´s gasps and moans fill up his ears. He sucks on the head, immediately feels Timothée´s hands grab his head and looks up, meeting his gaze as he takes more and more of his cock down his mouth.

* * *

  
  
  
  


It's close to midnight and the sweaters are still scattered on the bedroom floor, but now the only sound that can be heard is their slow breathing, their whispers and the eventual chuckles that they let out. Wrapped around in the blankets, Timothée has his arm wrapped around Armie's body, his chin resting upon his head while he gently strokes his back.

He tried to get back to his article once they were done, at least once they finished for the second time that night, but Armie kept distracting him, making jokes, kissing and tickling him. Every single time he told himself he wouldn't let him get the best of him, but he failed miserably, succumbing into his charms within seconds.

But then, who in their right mind would ever be able to resist a naked Armie?

He looks down, finds Armie staring right back at him and smiles, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. As Armie grips onto his waist and pulls him closer, Timothée hooks a leg over his hip, his hand holding tightly onto Armie's biceps. He moans softly through their pressed lips, rolls them over and straddles Armie, his hands sprawled over his chest as he looks down at him with a mischievous smile.

"You want to go another round?," Armie wiggles his eyebrows and Timothée pretends to think about it, only to shake his head and quickly get up, leaving Armie speechless. "What the fuck, Chalamet?"

"I told you I need to finish that article," he whines, putting on his sweatpants, not even bothering to find his boxers. "And you better stop distracting me, mister."

"You were enjoying the distraction just as much as I was."

"Maybe," he shrugs with a smug grin. "But I still need to finish that article, you know? Some of us actually have bosses to report to."

He leans in, pecks Armie's lips and then grabs his laptop on the bedside table, rushing over to the living room, where he sits on the couch and turns on the small reading lamp beside it. He starts typing, but less than five minutes later notices movement in the bedroom and before he can even process the whole thing, Armie is already by his side on the couch, fingers stroking his hair and lips attached to his neck, kissing and sucking on the skin.

"For fuck's sake, Hammer."

"What? Is this distracting you?"

"I fucking hate you," he mumbles before closing the lid and turning to Armie, who laughs and places the laptop down on the coffee table before lying on top of him. "I swear to God, if I don't hand this article in time, I will tell Zoe to talk to you."

"I'll be waiting for her call," he smirks.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Timothée kicks the fridge door close, finishes drinking his coffee and then fills up the mug again, taking the last toast from the plate and taking a quick bite of it before heading up the stairs. He glances down when he notices Archie following, smiles and then juggles with the toast and mug while he knocks on the wall, catching Armie´s attention.

"Hey, you´ve been here for a while. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's good," he nods at Timothée while grabbing the mug, taking a few sips of it. He sighs, lands a hand against his thigh as Timothée leans his desk, his green eyes locked on him. "I was just going through a couple of photos."

"Just going through a couple of photos," he repeats, nodding his head, although it is clear he doesn´t believe a word of what Armie is saying.

"What?"

"C´mon, Armie, I know you better than this. What you´re doing?"

Armie sighs, takes his hand and pulls him to his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist. "After my mom died, I decided to put the idea of an exhibit in her honor on hold, but I think it's finally time to get back onto that project."

"That's what you´re doing then?," Timothée asks, glancing over to the computer, where a photo of Victoria is displayed. "You're selecting the photos you're gonna use?"

"Kind of," he shrugs. "A little bit of that, a little bit of trying to create a concept for it."

"It's two months tomorrow, right?," Armie resorts to a quick nod and Timothée smiles, cradling his face. "Are you going to Scarsdale?"

"I don´t know, I thought about it, but I haven't made up my mind just yet."

"I could go with you if you want."

"What about the magazine?"

"Well, I finished that article, despite you being a distraction and as for the whole party organizing, I´m finally done with it, so I don´t think Zoe would mind me taking a few days off. As long as we´re back for the party on Friday, we could stay with your dad for a few days and you could visit her grave."

Armie frowns, his thumb gently stroking Timothée´s hipbone. He sighs, nods his head and looks up at Timothée, a little smile forming on the corner of his lips.

"I think that actually might be a good idea."

"Then we´ll go to Scarsdale," he pecks Armie´s lips, chuckling as he notices a few crumbs on the corner of his lips. He cleans it, feeds him the toast and smiles before taking another bite himself, his eyes wandering back to the computer. "And if you need any help with the exhibit, you can count on me, alright? I might not be the greatest photographer, but I can still recognize a good photo when I see it. And I am sure Zoe and Chris would help with anything you need too, so just let me know if you need me to call backup."

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "Thank you, I might need it."

"This photo is beautiful, by the way," he nudges him gently, gesturing to the computer as Armie smiles. "When did you take it?"

"This one in particular was taken a few days before we found out about her disease," he admits as Timothée hums a little  _ oh _ . "She was already showing some weird symptoms and had been submitted to a few exams, but we didn't have an answer for it yet. My dad thought it would be nice to get away for the weekend, just the three of us, like the old times. I took a bunch of photos of her that weekend and she seemed so happy, so alive and healthy. I think that's why coming back to the results of her disease made it all even worse."

"I know you miss her and I know you will always miss her, that the pain will never fully subside, but trust me, you'll eventually find a way to focus only on the good."

"Thank you."

"You´re welcome."

"She would have loved you, you know," Armie whispers as Timothée smiles, pressing his forehead against his. "I know she would."

  
  


* * *

  
  


_...But I am lost this time _

_ What if the love you deserve is love you never find? _

_ I've learned in love and death, we don't decide _

_ And if only you could see yourself in my eyes _

_ You'd see you shine, you shine... _

Timothée nods to the beat of the song, a smile on his lips and his feet up in the dash, watching as the buildings and hectic life of the city changes and gives room to more trees and quietness. This is his second time going to Scarsdale and while he knows they are going there so Armie can be with his father in such a difficult moment, he wonders if he will have time to visit some places and get to know a little bit more about the place.

Armie seems to enjoy it quite a lot judging by what he has said, even pointing out that there are some quite interesting places to go despite the town being seemingly tranquil. Maybe he will surprise himself this time, but even if he doesn't, being able to spend some time with Armie and his father is already quite nice for him. Not only does he feel welcomed by Paul, he is also a great cook and tells great stories.

He glances over at Armie, a small smile on the corner of his lips as he watches him tapping on the steering wheel, whispering the lyrics to the song. He reaches over for his hair, which is just now starting to grow and strokes it gently, closing his eyes as he leans his head back on the seat. He can feel Armie glancing at him, then his hand is resting on his knee, squeezing it softly.

It doesn't take it much time for Timothée to be filled with memories, a little movie playing in his head, which replays every single critical moment of the last four months. It's crazy to think of how much it happened in such a short time, how much pain he went through, the regret and the happiness. Four months changed his life completely and he couldn't wait to see what was ahead of him.

"You're awfully quiet," Armie eventually says, glancing over at Timothée. "Didn't even complain about my music."

"Well, sometimes you defy your very questionable music taste and find some good stuff to listen to."

"My music taste is not questionable."

"I beg to differ," he chuckles, opening his eyes to look over at Armie. "But I was actually thinking about everything that happened the last four months and thinking of how much my life has changed, how far I've come since we met for the first time."

"Yeah, the past few months have been quite crazy."

"I was also thinking how good it feels to be on the road with you again," he winks as Armie cocks an eyebrow. "Maybe we could hit the road again? As long as there's no camping involved, of course."

Armie laughs, nodding his head. "I think we can arrange that. You meant something about taking a break during the holidays, right?"

"Yeah."

"We could leave after Christmas, celebrate your birthday on the road, just the two of us."

"That sounds amazing," he smirks.

"Okay, we can start planning things once we are back home."

"Can I choose where we go?"

Armie frowns, stealing a quick glance at him. "Somehow I feel like I might regret this, but it's your birthday gift, so sure."

"Oh, it's gonna be awesome."

"I like how enthusiastic you are."

"I love traveling, alright?"

"Well, you could have me fooled. You were so grumpy for most of the time, it actually seemed like..."

"Okay, I'll stop you right there," he turns to face Armie. "I didn't know you, I was forced to be there and I needed to work on an article, of course I wasn't the most receptive person in the world. But once I did get to know you, I was the best partner you could have had."

"Sometimes," Armie mocks, earning a gasp and a light punch to the arm. "Fine, fine, you were a great road trip partner."

"Thank you," he smiles, sitting up straight as he notices Armie slowing down. He spots Paul on the balcony straight away, his greying hair messy as he sits at the front steps, staring into space. At first Timothée is worried, but he soon realizes he is calm and peaceful, just a father waiting for his son to arrive. "How long you think he's sitting there?"

"Not long, he keeps a perfect track of how long it takes to get here, so he probably just came out. He does love the whole  _ I've been waiting here all morning _ monologue though, so be aware."

Timothée chuckles, takes off his seatbelt and hops off of the car, waving at Paul, who gets up as soon as he sees it's them. He walks to the trunk, grabs his bag and swings it over his shoulder, following Armie down the sidewalk and to the front steps.

He watches with a smile as Armie and Paul embrace, Armie's face buried in the crook of his neck as Paul gently pats his back. As they pull away, Paul turns to him, bringing him into a tight hug as well. It feels good to have someone like Paul in his life, a man that embraced everyone like a father.

"What took you guys so long? I've been waiting for you all morning," he says as Armie shoots Timothée a look. "Come on in, I prepared us some lunch."

"Dad, I told you not to worry."

"Oh, shut up."

"Yeah, shut up, I miss your father's food."

"Thank you, Timothée."

"Kiss ass," Armie whispers in his ear as Timothée chuckles, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée lies on the king size bed of Armie´s bedroom, his eyes stuck to the ceiling as he hears the doors to the closet opening and closing. He leans on his elbows, frowns as he notices Armie standing in front of the mirror and then pushes himself up, slowly walking over to him. He slides his hand around his waist, his chin leaned against his shoulder, their eyes meeting through the mirror reflection.

Armie was fine until lunch, but as the time passed, it became clear to Timothée that being back in this house also made him slightly more melancholic, the painful memories still too fresh in his mind. He wishes there was something he could do to ease that pain, to shelter Armie from feeling those things, but he knows there is absolutely nothing he can do, but be there for him, give him a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold.

He smiles softly at him, turns him around and cradles his face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He presses their foreheads together, silence surrounding them, their breathing echoing softly in the bedroom. He kisses him once more, takes his hand in his and steps back, looking Armie in the eye.

"You want me to go with you?"

"No, I think it will be better if it's just the two of us. We need this moment to be about the three of us, you know?"

"I understand completely."

"I didn't want to leave you here all alone, though. That's not why you came here for after all."

"I came here to support you, Armie. And I will do that in whatever way necessary. I get that you want to do this with your dad, I respect that and I will be here, waiting for you two to get back. You don't have to worry about me, alright?"

"Alright."

"Besides, I did notice a little bakery a few blocks away from here, so I might pop up there while you two are gone."

"Of course you have already found yourself a place you can get coffee."

"I need fuel, alright?"

Armie chuckles, nodding his head. "It´s a great bakery, by the way. My mom loved that place and used to go at least twice a week."

"Even better, it will be like me getting to know her a little bit better."

"Yeah, it kind of is," he sighs, hands holding onto Timothée´s waist. "I talked to dad and we´re going out for dinner tonight, okay? We´re taking you to one of his favorite restaurants in the area and tomorrow I will give you a proper tour of the town, because last time didn't really count."

"You mean when you showed me the place you almost made out with some other guy?," Armie laughs, nodding his head. "Yeah, I agree, that didn't count."

"I'll make it up to you."

"I know you will."

Armie smiles and pulls him closer, kissing him softly until there is a knock on the door. He pulls away, looking over at Paul as he shyly walks in, a small smile on his lips.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I am."

"Timothée, I want you to feel at home, okay? Watch some television, cook something if you feel like it, go out and walk around the neighborhood, this is your home too now."

"Thank you, Mr. Hammer."

"You really need to start calling me Paul, kid."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head. "Sorry, Paul."

"See? A lot better," he winks, before turning to Armie. "Let's go?"

"Let's go," he turns to Timothée, plants a soft kiss on his lips. "We won't take long."

"Just go and take your time, I´ll be alright."

As Armie nods, Timothée follows him to the door, watching as he and Paul walk down the stairs. He sighs, walks over to the balcony and waves them goodbye, arms crossed to shelter him from the cold.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée places the mug down on the counter, adding just a bit of cinnamon on top of his hot chocolate, the smell filling up the entire kitchen. He takes it in his hands, bringing it closer to his nose and smiles, feeling all warm inside, the scent taking him back to his childhood, when his grandma would stop by the house and spend almost the entire afternoon in the kitchen.

He turns on his heels, heading over to the living room when the door opens and Armie enters, a small smile on his lips despite the clear sadness in his eyes. He leans against the staircase, taking a sip of his drink as Armie takes off his coat and hangs it by the door, which Paul locks it.

Silently, Timothée watches as Paul crosses the room and makes his way up the stairs, giving him a quick nod in his way up. He bites his lip, eyes wandering back to Armie, who has his arms crossed and a slightly worried expression.

"How was it?"

"Painful, but necessary," he admits with a shrug. "I think this is what we needed to get some closure, you know? The whole will thing is done, we have donated her things and now we went there, spent some time talking, sharing memories and just paying tribute to her in a way. I guess we needed to do this, even if we knew it was going to hurt."

Timothée nods, takes a couple steps closer to Armie and places the mug down on the coffee table before taking his hands in his, stroking it gently.

"You want to cancel tonight's dinner?"

"What? No, we can... I mean, I think we...," he stammers, sighing as Timothée shoots him a look. "I promised you we would be going out tonight."

"Armie, we have all the time in the world to do that. Neither you or your father are in the mood for going out, so let's just stay home, alright? I'll cook us some pasta and we can just sit in the living room, watching a movie."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yes, I am sure."

Armie nods, plants a soft kiss on his lips. "I should go shower."

"Okay."

"I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting," he winks, kissing his cheek. He takes a seat on the couch, grabs his mug and turns on the television, flipping through a couple of channels until Armie calls out his name. He looks at him, who now stands in the middle of the stairs. "What?"

"Thank you for being here."

"Always."

* * *

  
  
  


Armie steps out of the shower, his eyes finding his reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. He sighs, scratches his beard and leans against the sink, silently staring at himself while his mind works non stop. The days have become easier, but the memories of his mother are still paired with the pain of losing her and every single time he steps into this house, it gets even more difficult.

But as he told Timothée, going to her grave, having a moment there with his father did help him find some sort of closure, even if not total. His mother was in pain, she was suffering, even if she didn't allow herself to show it, so he had to remind himself every single day that she was in a better place.

He sighs, rubs his face and reaches for the towel, drying himself up and putting on some clean clothes. He takes one last glance at the mirror and then quickly makes his way out of the bathroom, grabbing his phone on the desk on his way out of the bedroom.

As he reaches the stairs, he can already hear the laughter and talking, which makes him frown. He slowly walks down the hallway, a smile slowly appearing on his lips as he sees Timothée and his father in the kitchen, helping each other with dinner while talking effusively. He leans against the wall, arms crossed and eyebrows cocked as he watches the scene in silence, which warms up his heart.

"Hey there," Timothée says when he notices him standing there, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Look who decided to come and join me to cook dinner."

"I see," he chuckles. "And I was excluded from the party because?"

"You were not excluded, son, we just didn't want to disturb you," Paul explains, placing a plate down on the counter. "But now that you´re here, I´m going to let you take over and I´ll go get the movie set up."

"Okay," Armie smiles at him, walking over to Timothée, who has his eyes focused on the pan, stirring constantly. "So, what exactly do we have here?"

"Spaghetti with pesto sauce and grilled chicken."

"It smells fantastic," he wraps his arm around Timothée´s waist, looking over his shoulder. "And I have to admit, I am surprised you got my dad here. I thought he was going to be stuck in his room for the rest of the day, to be honest."

"He´s stronger than you give him credit for," Timothée turns off the stove and turns around, wrapping his arms around Armie´s neck. "He saw me here all alone, said he wanted to help me and in the meantime he told me stories about your childhood and gave me some cooking tips."

"Stories about my childhood? What kind of stories?"

"Just some random stuff, nothing much," he shrugs as Armie shoots him a glare. "I´m not telling you, Hammer, not when I can use this against you in the future."

"Oh fuck."

Timothée chuckles, pecking his lips before he pushes him away and takes a few bowls from the cupboards, handing it to Armie, who frowns.

"Fill them up with the spaghetti, I´ll get the sauce and slice the chicken."

"Yes, sir," he turns on his heels to fill up the bowls with spaghetti. He glances over at Timothée over his shoulder, a smile on his lips as he watches him completely absorbed in the food. "You know, seeing you and my dad together really does warm my heart."

"Trust me, I'm really glad he likes me enough to have me around."

"Everyone loves you, Tim."

Armie places the bowls down, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his lips. He grabs a bottle of wine and glasses, gesturing over to the living room as Timothée nods, following him with a tray with the bowls. They place it down on the coffee table and sit down, Armie filling up the glasses and handing it one to each one of them.

As the movie starts and they focus their attention on it, Armie looks from his father to Timothée, suddenly realizing that while his mother´s absence still leaves quite a hole inside of him, he does have all the love he needs right there with him


	48. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is near.

Timothée groans and stretches himself in bed, his eyes flickering open and taking in his surrounding. Armie´s side of the bed has gone cold already and from the looks of it, he has left the bedroom too, probably to focus on breakfast. He sits up, a yawn escaping him as he rolls his shoulders, undoing the little knots that have formed on his muscles throughout the night.

He pushes himself up, scratching his neck as he walks to the balcony, pushing the curtains to the side and opening the door to take in the sunlight. It's not as cold as the previous day, so he enjoys the breeze for a few minutes, watching as a couple of people walk down the street, most of them walking their dogs or coming back from the grocery store.

He rushes to the bathroom, takes a quick shower and puts on some clean clothes, heading down the stairs afterwards. The smell of coffee and eggs is filling up the entire place, and as Timothée approaches the kitchen, he can hear Armie and Paul talking, their little chuckles bringing a smile to his face.

Leaning against the wall, he watches as Armie flips a couple of pancakes and Paul finishes brewing coffee, filling up a mug for himself afterwards. He waves at him once he finally catches his attention, walks further into the kitchen and chuckles as Armie turns to face him, an arm wrapping around his waist as he pulls him in for a quick kiss.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," he replies, fingers gently brushing against his beard. "Someone woke up in a good mood."

"Mostly hungry," he winks, before turning back to the pancakes. "Dad just finished making coffee and there´s bread, cheese, ham and scrambled eggs on the counter."

"Please, make yourself at home, Timothée. You can get the toaster, prepare yourself a sandwich or just wait until Armie is done with those pancakes of his."

Timothée nods, taking a seat beside Paul on the counter and reaching for a mug and a plate, which he fills it with eggs, a piece of cheese and ham. He yawns again, shaking his head as he pushes his hair back.

"So, you´re ready to explore the town, Timothée?"

"I will be once I am done with breakfast," he admits, earning a laugh from Paul. "Any places in particular I should look forward to? I didn't see much the last time I was here, so I feel like anything is fair game."

"Well, there is the Greenburgh Nature Center, Church of St. James the Less, the golf club, some nice restaurants and delicatessens."

"In other words," Armie interrupts, placing a plate with a stack of pancakes down. "This ain´t New York, so don't get too excited."

"Hey, we still have our charm, alright?"

"I´m not saying you don´t, dad," he hops on a stool, stuffing his mouth with eggs. "I´m just telling him not to get too excited, because it won´t get him anywhere."

Timothée chuckles, taking a few sips of his coffee. "I´m okay with whatever we end up doing, so there's no need to worry about me."

"As long as he doesn't have to camp, dad, he will be fine with pretty much anything."

"You don't like camping?"

"Can´t understand the hype," he shrugs. "I would rather have a nice and comfortable bed other than bugs and a tent."

"Well, when you put it like that."

"See? He agrees with me," Timothée smirks as Armie rolls his eyes. "You know your son forced me to camp with him after knowing him for three days or something, right?"

"Shock treatment," Paul chuckles. "But knowing Armie, he got so excited with the road trip, he forgot about the fact not everyone enjoys camping as much as he does."

"In my defense," Armie says quickly, before Timothée even has the chance to say anything. "I had it all planned for weeks, he was the one who jumped into the whole thing last minute."

"Because you invited me."

"Because you needed to work on an article about me and Zoe was nagging you to do it as fast as you could, which backfired, since it took you over a month to deliver the article."

"Not easy writing about someone you just broke up with."

"And whose fault was that?"

As they go on with their banter, Paul´s eyes wander from Armie to Timothée repeatedly, a smile on his face as he sees the way they interact and just how much love there is between the two of them. It's easy for anyone to see that they are, in fact, meant to be.

"You two are crazy," he finally says, attracting their attention. "But I guess it works."

"Is that a compliment?," Armie cocks an eyebrow.

"Yes, it is," he winks, pushing himself up. "Well, I will be in the office if you two need anything. Let me know when you're leaving, alright?"

"Okay," they both say in unison, glaring at one another afterwards. Timothée chuckles, shakes his head and takes one last bite of his sandwich, reaching for the plate of pancakes afterwards. "So, where exactly are we going to?"

"Like I said before, there´s not exactly much for us to see, so I´ll give you a nice little tour of the town and then we can stop somewhere to eat."

"Sounds good to me."

"We'll be back to New York tomorrow morning, okay? You don't have to worry."

"I´m not worried, I like being here."

Armie smiles, nodding his head. "Good, cuz I like having you here."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie keeps his arm wrapped around Timothée´s shoulder as they exit the park, his eyes wandering around the area, before he decides on where to take him next. After about two hours wandering through the streets of Scarsdale and a good hour inside the park, talking, taking pictures and enjoying the view, he was starting to get hungry and knowing Timothée, he knew he was more than ready for a little pitstop.

He gestures to one particular side of the road, keeping his body close as they walk down the streets, attracting the eyes of some ladies who pass them by, waving cheerfully at Armie. He chuckles when Timothée nudges him, a little teasing smirk on his lips. His mother was pretty active in the community, helping in shelters and always doing her best to be present in any fundraiser and event in town. It was no surprise that most people around knew him.

"...but you're like a celebrity around here."

"I'm not a celebrity."

"You are among these middle age women, who can´t help but smile whenever they walk past you."

"They all knew my mom, that's why they are nice to me."

Timothée nods.

"Yeah, right. It has absolutely nothing to do with your good looks, right?"

"They are all old enough to be my mother."

"Have you ever heard about cougars, Armie?"

"Oh, fuck off," he pushes Timothée away, rolling his eyes as he laughs.

He stops in front of a shop, eyes glued to the banner, memories flooding his head until he feels Timothée´s hand around his arm and his head pressed against his shoulder. He looks down at him with a smile, kisses the top of his head and then takes his hand, leading him inside.

"Is this one of the places your mom used to come?"

"Yeah, her and my dad usually had lunch here on Sundays."

"Apparently they had quite a lot of little traditions, huh?," Armie nods, pointing over to one of the empty tables. "It's a cute thought."

"Maybe we´ll have our own traditions in a few years."

"What kind of couple would we be if we didn't have?," he chuckles, taking a seat across from Armie. "So, what's good here?"

"Basically everything, but I really enjoy the quiches, specially the mushroom-leek one."

Timothée nods, grabbing one of the menus on the table.

"There are soups and salads too, but I doubt you´d go for that."

Timothée chuckles, raising his gaze to Armie. "You know me so well."

"I do, which is why I say we go for the quiche. It tastes amazing, but it won´t make you feel like you had too much, which is great, because you're definitely going for something sweet afterwards."

"Okay, since you think you know me so well, what kind of sweet should I get then?"

"There are tarts and a great variety of cookies, so I say you get the tart, I´ll get some cookies and we'll share?"

Timothée frowns, nodding his head slowly. "That´s scarily accurate."

"Like I said," he smirks. "I know my boyfriend."

"I hope you make good use to that knowledge when my birthday comes."

Armie laughs, shaking his head. "I thought the road trip was your birthday gift?"

"I never said that."

"Okay, then I'll start thinking of something."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie chuckles as they stumble across the room, kicking their shoes to the side. He grips onto Timothée´s waist, keeping his body close to his as he kisses down his neck and shoulder, pulling on his sweater to expose more skin. He feels his hand travel down his back, his nails scratching against the little bit of skin in between his shirt and jeans, then his hands grabbing a handful of his ass, which he squeezes.

They hit the bathroom door and Timothée groans, rubbing the back of his head as Armie bites his lip, his eyes wide as he tries to hold back a laugh. Timothée shakes his head, grips onto his shirt and pulls it off of him, throwing it to the ground before doing the same with his very own. Meanwhile, Armie works on his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his naked body suddenly in full display.

Timothée eyes him up and down, licking his lip as a little moan gets caught up on his throat. Armie winks, works the zipper of Timothée´s pants and pushes them down, watching him kick it off to the side in astonishing speed. As he grabs his waist, Timothée immediately wraps his arms around his neck and jumps on top of him, his legs hooked around his hips.

Armie tucks a few curls behind his ear, wraps an arm around his body for support and grabs his chin in between his thumb and index finger, bringing his face close to his. He runs the tip of his tongue across his lips, smirks as he hears him moan and then kisses him hungrily, his tongue almost immediately invading Timothée´s mouth.

"Armie?!"

Paul´s voice and knock startles them, who pull away immediately, although they remain in position. Armie frowns, glancing at the door over his shoulder as Timothée covers his mouth with his hand, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Yes, dad?"

"I need to make a quick stop by the market, you guys need anything?"

"Lube?," Timothée whispers, earning a glare from Armie.

"No, dad, we´re good."

"Okay, I´ll be back in a few."

"Okay," he sighs, waiting a few seconds before he turns back to Timothée, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "Well, that was interesting."

"Thank God we locked the door."

Armie chuckles, tightening his grip around Timothée. "So, where were we?"

"I guess you were about to fuck me under the shower?"

"Right," he smirks, pulling him in for another kiss as he kicks the bathroom door open, stumbling inside. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Their hair is still wet when they make it out of the bedroom, arms wrapped around one another and little chuckles escaping as they whisper into each other's ears, lazy smiles plastered on their faces. Armie sneaks a hand underneath Timothée´s hoodie, his fingers delicately tracing the bumps of his spine, almost as if Timothée is an instrument. He winks when Timothée raises his gaze to meet his, his hand resting on his stomach, his cheeks slightly flushed.

As they make it down the stairs, their eyes swiftly move to the living room. There are boxes on the ground, while the coffee table is filled with chips, popcorn, dips, cheese and bottles of beer. Confused, Timothée frowns, glancing over his shoulder as he hears movement in the kitchen. He can see Paul by the fridge, struggling to hold onto a couple of boxes and jars, the look on his face pretty much the same Armie does when he is deeply focused on something.

With one quick glance at one another, Armie and Timothée rush to the kitchen, each one taking an item away from Paul's hand and resting on the counter. Timothée resorts to silence, simply observing as Armie crosses his arm, an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing? I thought we agreed on going out for dinner, dad."

"I know we did, but then it started snowing, so I thought we could stay home and do something we haven't done in quite a while."

It´s then Armie´s time to frown, his eyes roaming from his dad back to the living room. As realization hits him, a smile spreads across his lips and he nods his head.

"What am I missing?"

"Game night," Armie explains, resting his hip against the counter as he turns his attention to Timothée. "We used to have game night every week while I was growing up, it was our way to have some time together when both my parents had quite a lot to do. After I left for college, it became a bit more difficult, but we tried to do it as much as possible."

"Haven't had one in months though."

"Mom was the best at game night, she held the record for most wins in a month when I was around fourteen."

Timothée chuckles, nodding his head. He can almost picture fourteen year old Armie sitting on the ground along with his parents, his spiked hair slightly blue, his cheeks a tender shade of pink and blue eyes attentive to the next move.

"So I thought we could do something like that tonight," Paul explains, shrugging his shoulders. "Unless Timothée wants to brave the snow to go out and look for a restaurant."

"I think I got everything I need here," he replies, resting his head against Armie´s chest, his fingers playing with the hem of his sweater. "Who needs fancy restaurants and elaborated drinks anyway?"

"Are you sure?"

"I got Monopoly, beer and chips, I will be just fine."

"Game night it is then," Armie winks down at Timothée, pecks his lips and then grabs a pack of chips from the counter, gesturing to the living room. He glances over his shoulder, smiling over at Timothée, who follows him close by and sits down on the ground, pushing the coffee table further away so they can have more space. "You know, I actually thought about game night the other day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he whispers, glancing over at his father in the kitchen. "But I wasn't sure if dad would ever want to do it again, you know? Not without her around."

"I think that's exactly why he wants to do it," Timothée explains. "She might not be around physically, but doing this with you will sure bring back memories of her and it will be like she is around somehow."

Armie nods, pulling Timothée closer to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"Are we here to play games or make out, boys?"

"Play games."

"Then stop with the pda and let's get started," he sits down beside Timothée, eyes down to the games that lay beside him. "Are we going for Monopoly or you guys want to start off with something else?"

"I choose Monopoly," Timothée quickly chimes in, taking the box from Paul, a little cheeky grin on his face.

"I´ve never thought I would see you so happy over a board game."

"It shows you don´t know everything about me, Hammer."

Armie laughs, shrugging his shoulders.

"Touché."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée sits with his back leaned against the headboard, flipping through channels on the television. He sighs after a few minutes, turns the television off and tosses the remote control to the bedside table, taking a quick look at his phone, scrolling through messages and chuckling as he sees some of the photos Chris has sent him.

He smiles as he feels the bed move and hands grip onto his waist, pulling his body closer with such ease he should be scared. He drops the phone, turns around in Armie´s arms, biting his lip as he sees the little cheeky grin on his face. He grabs a hold of his shirt, pulls him closer and plants a soft kiss on his lips, smiling as Armie quickly deepens it, turning into a much more heated one.

Their legs tangle in a matter of seconds, their hands roaming through each other's body, gripping onto anything they can find. When Armie´s fingers slide through his hair, Timothée moans softly and cups his face, his thumbs stroking the stubble on his chin. He sighs in contentment, cheeks flushed as he lies down with his head on Armie´s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

To think that he almost lost him, that his insecurity and fear allowed them to be apart for so long when they could spend that time enjoying each other's company. Timothée might never forget how stupid he was for letting go of Armie, for not giving them a chance right away, but at the same time he knows everything happens for a reason and maybe being apart was exactly what they needed.

"Dad asked when we are coming back," Armie whispers, stroking Timothée´s hair. "He also apologizes for not being able to join us for the magazine party tomorrow."

"It would be great if he could go, but I know he has his own obligations. I´ll make sure he knows he is always welcomed to stop by the magazine though, I´m sure Zoe would love to show him around the place just as much as I would."

Armie lifts his chin, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"Thank you for being so good to him."

"I should be the one thanking him, Armie. After what I put you through, he still welcomed me here with open arms and has been nothing but great to me."

"He really likes you, he makes sure to tell me that all the time."

Timothée smirks, shrugging his shoulders.

"Are you nervous about the party?," Armie asks after a moment of silence.

"The party itself is not the problem, but having to speak to everyone might leave me a bit uneasy."

"Really?"

Timothée shrugs, moving around quickly. He takes a seat, fingers running through his hair as he looks down at Armie, who has his hand on his thighs, drawing imaginary shapes with his fingers.

"I like talking and that's not really a surprise to anyone, but it doesn't mean I don't get even a little bit nervous when I have to address a large crowd, you know? It certainly won't keep me from doing my job, but I might get slightly fidgety."

"You mean even more fidgety, right?," Timothée glares at him and Armie shrugs, laughing. "Look, I love you from the bottom of my heart, but you are incapable of sitting still for longer than two minutes."

"Of course I can!"

"Only when you're really afraid of something, otherwise you´re just a constant ball of energy and sometimes even I have a hard time keeping up."

"Lies, these are all lies."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Timmy, but they are not."

Timothée shakes his head, crosses his arms above his chest and does his best to put on a serious face, but he gives in the minutes Armie jumps on top of him, knocking him down on the bed, his hands holding tight onto his waist as he nuzzles his nose against his neck. He laughs, although tries his best to keep his tone down and not disturb Paul, his hands gripping onto Armie´s shirt and his legs wrapping around his hips.


	49. Rom-Com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is here

Timothée sighs, fumbling with his fingers as he sits down on the couch, eyes closed as he replays his speech in his head over and over again. He bites his lip, crunches his nose, remembers the words Paul said to him before they left the house and inhales deeply, exhaling slowly seconds later. He doesn't need to be nervous, he knows exactly what he is going to say, not to mention the fact his friends and Armie will all be there, supporting and giving him the strength necessary to keep himself grounded.

He opens his eyes, notices Archie is staring at him and chuckles, patting the seat beside him and playing with his ears as he jumps to his side. He plants a kiss on his head, mumbles a couple words to him and laughs as he barks back at him. The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts him, who jumps from the couch and rushes around the house, settling by his favorite spot by the stairs. He pushes himself up, fixes his suit and walks over to the bedroom, arms crossed as he rests against the partition.

A smile spreads across his lips as he watches Armie, who is finishing getting dressed, his shirt nicely fitted and his pants doing wonders to his perfectly round ass. He licks his lips, quite pleased with himself for scoring a guy like him, and wiggles his brows as Armie finally catches him standing there.

"Looking good, Mr. Hammer."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, there´s a James Bond vibe, which is really sexy."

"That's good to hear," he crosses the space between them, cornering Timothée against the partition. He leans forward, thumb gently pulling on his bottom lip as his tongue traces his earlobe.

"That´s a really bad time to tease me, Armie."

"And why is that?"

"Because we need to be at the party in half an hour, which means there is no way for us to do anything and be there in time."

"We can still have some fun."

Timothée moans softly, Armie´s raspy voice against his ear, the heat of his body against his and his large hand holding onto his waist are driving him insane. He could drop to his knees right then and there, but he knows he simply can´t. At least not right now.

"Save it for later."

"Is this a promise?"

"Oh, you bet it is," he whispers, hands sliding down Armie´s back until he gets a good hold of his ass. "I can´t wait to drop down to my knees and suck you off while you wear this beautiful suit."

"You sure we can´t be late?"

"Sadly, yes."

Armie chuckles, plants a quick kiss on his lips and nods his head, taking a step back from him and fixing his clothes. Timothée licks his lips, runs a hand through his curls and then sighs, trying his best to keep himself together, even if the mere sight of Armie in that suit makes his cock twitch inside his pants.

"C´mon, we should go before we both give in and end up ruining our clothes."

"Nothing says party like some cum stained suits, huh?," he mocks as Timothée laughs, shaking his head.

"Go get your jacket," he slaps Armie´s ass, winks and then turns on his heels, walking back to the living room, where his phone and the paper with his speech are. He puts them in his pocket, takes a deep breath and then grabs Armie´s keys, tossing it to him as he makes it out of the bedroom. "Ready?"

"More horny than ready, to be honest."

"Well, get over it."

Armie laughs, nods his head and rushes over to the door, opening it as he holds his hand out for Timothée, who rolls his eyes. He plants a kiss on his cheek as he approaches him, slides a hand down his waist and pulls him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

"You´re gonna do great there, by the way."

"Thank you."

"And just so you know, when you´re up on that stage, going through the profile, I will be thinking of all the ways I can wreck you once we are back home."

"You´re not helping, Armie."

"I never said I was here to help."

Timothée chuckles, punching his chest as Armie shrugs, a little grin on his face. As Timothée keeps his eyes on him though, he notices Armie´s expression change to a much more serious one, his hands cradling his face.

"Seriously now, you´ll do great up there and I will be the proudest boyfriend in the whole world."

"Thank you."

"Now c´mon, we have a party to go to."

Timothée nods, an arm wrapped around Armie´s waist as they leave the house, locking the door behind them. As they reach the car, Timothée stops by the door, biting his lip as he watches Armie circle the car to get into the driver's seat.

"What? Did you forget something?," he asks when he notices Timothée still hasn't gotten in.

"No. No, I was just thinking."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The party is a lot more than Armie could have expected, the attention to every little detail quite clear as he wanders around the room, looking at all the photographs on the walls, the way they displayed old issues and the decoration itself. Zoe and Timothée had devoted hours of their lives into this and it clearly paid off; not only was it all beautiful, everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves and Armie knew that meant a lot to Timothée.

He thanks the waiter as he takes another glass of champagne, taking a few sips of it as he walks back to their table, sitting in between Chris and Taylor, who has his eyes down to his phone. Armie nudges him, gestures over to the stage, where Zoe now stands and chuckles as Taylor quickly turns it off and places it back in his pocket, devoting his sole attention to what she is saying.

Armie leans back on the chair, notices Timothée standing by the side of the stage, his head down while he bites his lip. He can almost see his foot patting the floor while he fidgets with his fingers, doing whatever he can to keep his mind off of what he is about to do. He smiles, grabs his phone and quickly sends him a text, earning a shove from Taylor almost immediately.

"I can´t, but you can?"

"Oh shut up," he whispers, before his eyes fall on Timothée again, watching as he raises his gaze to meet his. He winks at him, tries his best to put on his best smile, making sure Timothée knows he got this, that there is no reason for him to be nervous. When he smiles back at him, nodding his head slowly, Armie relaxes too.

"I find it fascinating how easy it is for you to make him feel better," Chris whispers, leaning closer to him. "Trust me, Zoe and I tried for years, but we never mastered that."

"Maybe you were never supposed to get it," he whispers back. "Maybe that was my part all along."

"I guess you are right and we´re all incredibly lucky for that."

Armie smiles at him, then turns his attention back to Zoe, who is by now finishing up her speech and introducing Timothée. As he steps on the stage, a round of applause erupts in the room and Armie seems to be the most enthusiastic about it, which obviously earns him a few mocking stares from his friends. None of that matters though, because he is so proud of Timothée, he wouldn´t mind being stupid.

"Good night, everyone. I´m Timothée Hal Chalamet, co-founder and writer at Cultural Affair. For the past four years, Zoe and I have been doing our best to connect with our readers not only here in New York, but also all across the country, reaching out to them and trying to build a network between us, in which we can all share and gain information. It was through this network that Zoe got to know about the subject of one of our most popular articles in the history of our magazine, because people reached out to her to talk about this brilliant photographer who was making the rounds in the internet and attracting the eyes of many people."

Armie can feel his friend's eyes on him as Timothée says those words, a little blush coming to his cheeks.

"After getting to know a little bit more about this photographer, Zoe knew we had to do something with him, give our readers something in return for pointing us, well her, in his direction. That's how she got the idea of working on a profile about him and being the mastermind that she is, Zoe delegated me to the article. Now, here is when this story gets interesting, because I had no intentions of writing this article, I truly didn't believe to be up my lane and I tried my best to avoid doing so."

Armie chuckles, shaking his head. He's always amused when he remembers how much Timothée tried to avoid even meeting him.

"Obviously, Zoe had her mind set on having me write that article and in the end, after a lot of pressure from her side, I agreed to do it and it was truly the best decision I have ever made. What was supposed to be a simple profile, which I would write after spending a whole day with our photographer, turned into a three week long road trip to Maine, in which the photographer became a great friend of mine and then, thankfully for me, a life partner that I can trust with my life."

Armie smiles, memories of the road trip flooding his head, just as a couple of tears start to form in his eyes. After everything they´ve been through, all the things Timothée had to get over to allow himself a chance at love, hear him speak about them like this, to so many people is truly mind blowing.

"The photographer in question is Armie Hammer and right now, I´m going to read an extract from the profile, which you all can find in the October's issue of Cultural Affair," he smiles, unfolds a little piece of paper and takes a breath, his eyes finding Armie in the crowd. "It took me a while to fully understand what it is about Armie Hammer that attracts basically everyone he ever crosses path with, but I have finally figured it out. Beyond the blue eyes that draw you in and the soothing, raspy voice that always seems to say the right words, there is a kind smile and a genuine interest in what people have to say. From day one, I saw Armie engage with little kids and elderly couples, with black, white and asians, and he devoted the same attention to every single one of them. He cared about their stories, about what they had to share and he used that to achieve photographs that seemed to highlight people´s essence in a way I had never seen before . "

Armie sighs, bites his lip and looks to the side as Taylor nudges him, a large smile on his face and his cheeks slightly flushed.

"But Armie is also a storyteller, who enchants people with his words, creates beautiful and inviting worlds, he takes us into a rollercoaster ride, exploring our deepest emotions and finding a way, that's all his, of translating that into a frame. And suddenly, a fragment of a moment was eternalized, turned into something that was no longer just an image, but an inside look into someone's soul."

Their eyes meet, Armie smiles and winks in his direction, which makes Timothée blush.

"And if all of that wasn't enough, if his talent wasn't enough, Armie turned out to be the kind of person who could talk about any subject you threw at him. Although, I might add, he is lacking on the reality show aspect of pop culture, but I am sure he can work on that. We had long afternoons of conversations, hours of car rides where we discussed life and death, the art of photography and writing, people's perception of us, why there's so much ugliness in the world, what beer tastes better, Roman Empires and the pyramids, whether we'd rather spend our money on McDonald's or the hipster burger joint in Brooklyn that everyone says has the best burger in the world."

Armie chuckles as his friends nudge him, cheeky smiles on their faces.

"Armie is a man of the world, he moves around every form of art, mingles with every group, shows his support for difficult causes while being humble enough to admit that he doesn't know everything and often needs guidance. Armie is a man who's fully aware of his talent, of his flaws and he's not afraid to show any of them, because he knows that's what makes him this incredible human being, that pretty much makes everyone around him fall in love. But maybe, I should give credit to the right people here. While Armie is an incredible man, he is that man because he had the guidance of parents that were there for him through thick and thin, people who showed him the world and gave him the best life he could have asked for, but also made sure he knew that family, friends and love, those are truly the fundamental pillars of anyone's life."

As Timothée goes on, Armie can feel his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, their gaze meeting constantly. He can only hope Timothée can tell by his eyes how proud he is, because Armie doubts words will be able to fully express it.

"And I can guarantee to you all that he got the message. His friends love him and as far as I could tell are very protective of him. His love for his parents goes beyond anything and I would constantly find myself in the middle of a conversation about how his father, a now retired Diplomat, lost himself in the middle of Buenos Aires. How we even reached that conversation is beyond me, but it didn't matter, because he also made it feel organic, almost as if I was there.

Truth be told, while I didn't want to do this article at first, I am now fully aware that it changed me. While Armie leaves with promo, the chance to say he's got a two page article in a magazine, I leave with the memories of finding love for the very first time and losing it. Not because I wanted to, but because I was too scared to fight for it the way I should have. Armie opened my eyes to so much and..."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Timothée gets down the stage with a sigh, closes his eyes for a brief second and smiles at himself, feeling proud of all that he just did up there. He was nervous at first, even though he knew exactly what he had to say, but as he stepped there he felt energized, the comforting text Armie had sent him calming his nerves and reminding him that no one in the world knew those lines better than himself. There was nothing to be nervous about.

And once he actually started, his eyes finding Armie´s on the crowd, he was taken back to the days they spent in their road trip, locked inside Armie´s car for hours, arguing about who would be in charge of music, laughing over stupid jokes and exploring the cities. He could almost smell the coffee he drank the afternoon they met, the lump in his throat when Armie invited him to the road trip, the tingling sensation that took him over when they had to share a bed for the first time.

Being on that stage, reading those words, it reminded Timothée of just how lucky he was. He never imagined life would be so good as to introduce someone like Armie to him, someone who understood him, listened to what he had to say and always did his best not to judge. He suffered a lot while growing up, feared that he would never be able to find someone to rely on, but Armie changed that, he opened his eyes to just how great life could be if you'd just taken a leap of faith.

Approaching his friends, he puts on a timid smile, laughing as Chris rushes over and engulfs him in a tight hug, kissing his cheek a couple of times. He tries to pull away, crunches his nose as Chris only tightens his grip around him and then gives up the fight, relaxing his arms. His eyes find Armie and he smiles at him, noticing the hint of tears in his eyes, which slightly confuses him.

"You did great up there, Tim."

"Thank, Chris, you can let go of me now, right?"

Chris nods, plants another kiss on his cheek and then finally releases Timothée, who lets out a loud sigh. He turns to Lee, who shakes his hand and then finds himself completely taken back as Taylor actually gives him a proper hug. Sure, they had pushed back all the troubles of the past, but Taylor was still far from being the affectionate type.

"You really did a great job, Tim."

"Thank you, Taylor," he nods, patting his back before turning to Zoe."What about my editor? Did I do a good job, boss?"

"You always do," she winks. "Okay, now it's time for the party to start for good. I´ll go tell the DJ to start up the music and I better see all five of you on the dance floor, or else I will go after each and every one of you and force you to dance."

"Yes, ma´am," they all say in unison as she smirks.

As their friends follow Zoe to the dance floor, Timothée turns to Armie, cocking his eyebrows as he waits for him to say something. He smiles as he wraps an arm around his waist and brings him closer, planting a soft and tender kiss on his lips, his thumb gently caressing his cheek. Once he pulls away, as slowly as he possibly can, Armie licks his lips, smiles and then pecks his lips repeatedly for a few seconds, earning a soft chuckle from Timothée.

"I was going to ask what was your verdict, but judging by this kiss, I would say you liked it."

"You took me back to those days on the road, reminded me of just how incredible it felt to get to know you and fall in love with you. No matter how many times I have read that article, hearing you say it, it meant so much more, that I doubt I will ever be able to explain it to you the right way."

"Armie..."

"I never told you that, but the first time I read that article, I felt seen. It was as if for the first time in my life, someone other than my parents had truly seen the real me. Your words made me feel loved and cherished, which is why after I read it, I decided to go after you."

"Too bad I beat you to it, huh?"

"I don´t know, I quite liked the fact you went to my doorstep to win me over."

"After all, you love a good romcom moment, don´t you?"

"Exactly," he replies with a chuckle, bringing Timothée in for another kiss.

"We should go to the dance floor before Zoe comes after us," Timothée whispers, although his lips remain pressed against Armie´s. "I don't want to though."

"What you say we dance a little bit, then sneak around to work on that little subject we discussed before the party?"

Timothée smirks, nods his head and pecks his lips, taking his hand in his as he leads him to the middle of the dance floor, swinging his body from side to side. He smiles at Armie, wraps his arms around his neck and keeps him close, their friends dancing around them.

"I love you," Timothée whispers in his ear, closing his eyes as he leans his head against his shoulder and feels Armie squeeze his waist.

"I love you, too."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie hears Timothée´s breathy laughter behind him as they rush through the hallways, desperately searching for a place they can find peace and quiet. He tries a couple doors, groans as they all seem to be locked and glances over his shoulder, a wide smile spreading across his lips as he notices Timothée standing by an open door, a wicked look in his eyes as he gestures with his finger for Armie to come closer.

He stands there for a moment, simply taking in the sight of Timothée, who´s hair is already a mess and shirt has a few buttons open, in his pants a growing bulge that nearly hypnotizes him. He sighs in contentment, walks over to him and holds onto his hips, pressing their bodies together, his lips almost immediately finding comfort in his neck, which he kisses and licks.

They stumble inside the dark room and Armie kicks the door close, turning them over to press Timothée against it, a hand gripping onto his curls, yanking his head back. He stares down at him, smiles as Timothée breathing frets, his lips slightly swollen and pink, in his green eyes desperation and hunger. He traces his thumb across his bottom lip, feels the shivers that run down his skin and presses his thigh against his crotch, feeling his hard cock through his pants.

Timothée closes his eyes, his hands sprawled against the door, his back slightly arched, doing his best to get more friction. Armie absolutely loves how needy he can get, and the way his body responds to even his lightest touch is one the things that arouses him the most about him.

He plants a soft kiss on his jaw, right near his ear and then trails off the whole thing, leaving kiss after kiss, hearing Timothée hiss and moan. When he finally lets their lips come together, in a heated and hungry kiss, Armie doesn't waste any second and shoves his tongue inside his mouth, savoring his taste. He slides his hand down Timothée´s body, unbuttons the rest of his shirt and then cups him through his pants, feeling his cock grow against his touch.

Timothée´s hands grip onto his shirt, his teeth grasp against his bottom lip, his hip thrusts forward into his hand, humping it as muffled moans echo in the until now quiet room. Once Armie pulls away, breathless and flushed, he takes a step back, hands working on the buttons of his shirt, that he leaves it open before moving to unzip his pants, letting them fall to his ankles, his cock now in full view.

Before he gets the chance to say anything, Armie watches as Timothée falls down to his knee, his hand gripping tightly onto his cock, which he strokes. Their eyes meet, a smile appears in Timothée´s face and as Armie lets out a soft moan, he pokes his tongue out, allowing the tip to come in contact with his slit. The simple touch sends electric like shock waves down Armie´s body, the hairs on his arm standing up almost immediately.

He grunts, slides his hands down Timothée´s hair and watches in awe as he takes his cock in his mouth, his green eyes never leaving his, not even when they start to water. He licks his lips, thrusts his hips forward, feeds Timothée with all of his cock, his moans growing slightly louder when he starts palming his own hard cock.

Inebriated with desire, Armie rests a hand on Timothée´s cheek, feeling the movement of his cock coming in and out of his mouth and the vibrations that his moans cause. He pulls him away when he finds himself losing control, his cock throbbing as he comes closer to the edge. He pulls him up, yanks his shirt off and then works on his pants, letting them fall down to his ankles before he turns him around and presses him against the door.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Armie closes the door behind him, a heavy sigh escaping him as he feels the tiredness of the day consume him. He leans against the door for a moment, eyes closed as he inhales deeply, rolling his shoulders. He opens his eyes when Timothée reaches for his arm, pulls him closer and turns him around, helping him take off the jacket of his suit. He smiles at him, hands brushing together briefly as Timothée walks away and then turns to Archie, who stares at him from the bottom step of the stairs.

He kneels down, pats his head and runs his hand down his back, feeling the softness of his fur against his skin. He plants a kiss down his head, checks his water and food, then pushes himself up, heading straight to the kitchen. While pouring himself a glass of water, he watches Timothée walk back to the living room and throw himself down on the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed. He is obviously tired, not only because of the party and their little rendezvous, but the fact they had woken up early and driven back from Scarsdale. Sure, the drive wasn't long, but after the long night of games they had with his dad, they both wished for a couple more hours of sleep.

He sets his glass down, heads over to the living room and sits down on the opposite end of the couch, bringing Timothée's legs to his lap. He takes off his shoes and socks, massages his toes and heel, smirking as Timothée lets out a low moan of pleasure. He intensifies his moves, making sure to pay close attention to both feet, the sighs that Timothée produces amusing him quite a bit. He plants a soft kiss on his left foot, watches as Timothée opens an eye, shooting him a weird look and laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Don't worry, I have not developed some sort of feet fetish."

Timothée simply chuckles, fixing himself on the couch as he closes his eyes again, his breathing slowing down, almost as if he is about to fall asleep. All of sudden though, he pulls his feet away from Armie's grip and sits up straight, his eyes wide and filled with excitement. Armie cocks an eyebrow in confusion, but remains quiet, waiting for Timothée to say something.

"What?," he eventually asks, intrigued by his sudden change of mood.

"I almost forgot to tell you, I have done some research and I think I have a pretty good route for us to follow on our road trip."

Armie chuckles, lying down on the couch, his feet now resting on Timothée's lap.

"I was trying to think of what could make this trip different, maybe stop by cities that are not often in the most popular routes, so I did some digging through websites and blogs about traveling and found some tips we could use."

"Alright," Armie nods. "Do you actually have a route or you're still trying to figure that out?"

"Oh no, I have a list of possible cities we could go," he smiles widely, jumps up and rushes to the large book stand by the television set.

Armie watches him in silence, but with a large smile plastered on his lips. He absolutely loves to see the ease in which Timothée moves around his house, how comfortable he is not only with the place itself, but with everything inside it, including Archie, which he has basically adopted as his own. Going back to the day they met, the way Timothée acted the first few days of their road trip, it was almost impossible to imagine they would end up here, almost inseparable.

Timothée had been spending more time with him than at his own apartment, his clothes were starting to fill up the closet, projects from the magazine and his work notes were often found around the living room and kitchen, his journals -which he took time to write in almost every single day- were always laying around and he even had a key himself. And maybe some people would claim things had moved too fast between them, but those people didn't know the joy Armie felt whenever he saw Timothée walking in after a day of work, or how pleased he was whenever he found him sleeping on the couch with Archie on top of him; maybe those people would never understand the amount of love Armie felt whenever Timothée simply looked at him or reciprocated a smile. Being around him was everything he needed and wanted in life.

"What?"

"Huh?," he mumbles, blinking a few times as he snaps out of his thoughts and notices Timothée has moved closer. He is frowning down at him, a hand on his hip while on the other he holds a piece of paper. "What did you say?"

"Why were you looking at me like that?"

"No reason."

"No reason?," he questions, clearly not buying it. "What's going on?"

"There's nothing going on," he sits up, grabs onto Timothée's hand and pulls him down into the couch, letting him sit in between his legs. "Let me see that list."

Timothée holds the list in his hand and Armie leans his chin against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist as his eyes go through the name of the cities listed there. As Timothée starts explaining some of the things he found out about the cities, Armie nods and hums his responses, planting quick and soft kisses on his cheek from time to time. He leans back, the enthusiasm and joy in Timothée's voice so authentic, like a little kid explaining something they just found out. He smiles widely, unable to control himself, but not really in the mood of doing so.

"You're staring again, Hammer."

"I know," he replies, pushing some of his hair back. "I just really love staring at you."

"You can be so fucking cheesy sometimes."

"Don't see you complain much about it though," he fires back, earning a glare from Timothée. He chuckles, leans down to kiss him and smiles as his hand rests against his cheek, keeping the kiss going for a moment more.

When they pull away, Timothée rests his head down on his chest, their fingers intertwined. Silence consumes them, but neither one of them seems to mind, they actually enjoy it. As Timothée's breathing slows down, Armie looks down at him and pushes some of his hair back, smiling as he notices he is drifting off to sleep. With a sigh, Armie also closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax too.

While sleep takes them both over, the list falls from Timothée's hand into the floor, their future written down in a piece of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially this is the final chapter of Cultural Affair, but then I thought it would be a waste not to give you all a glimpse of the boys quarantine life, so stay tuned for a little epilogue coming soon 😉


	50. Quarantine Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love in times of corona

The sunlight comes in through the open windows and a light breeze blows the curtains, while their voices get higher with each passing second. As many other couples all across the world, Armie and Timothée had ended up quarantined together, developing a brand new routine for their relationship, but also experiencing the odd sentiment of watching as the smallest of things suddenly had the most impact on the relationship.

While at first Timothée´s habit of leaving the dishes behind was almost endearing for Armie, with the passing of days, it slowly became something that annoyed him. Meanwhile, Armie´s constant need to have everything cleaned, specially the bathroom, was driving Timothée nearly insane.

"...I honestly don´t know what the fuck I had in my head when I decided it would be a good idea to be quarantined with you."

"You were thinking of all the sex you would get," Armie shouts back, smiling ironically at Timothée, who rolls his eyes, hands turning into fists. "Or was it because you needed someone to keep cooking for you and washing your dishes?"

"Oh, so you´re implying that I´m either making you my maid or my sex toy, is that it?"

Armie simply shrugs, throwing the towel he had in his hands on the couch. He turns around, heading back to the bedroom as Timothée shakes his head, messy curls bouncing from side to side as he follows Armie.

"I am not fucking done, Hammer."

"Well, that´s your fucking problem, because I am done with this conversation."

Timothée groans loudly, gripping onto his own hair in frustration. He rubs his temples, closes his eyes for a brief moment and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to control himself. He stares at Armie for a minute, hands in his waist as he waits for him to turn back to him and say something, but he remains quiet, ignoring him completely.

He turns around, heads over to the kitchen and pours himself a tall glass of water, drinking it all in only a few long gulps. He grips onto the counter, bites down hard on his lip and then rushes outside the house, letting the door slam shut behind him. He sits down on the front steps, arms crossed and chin pressed against his knee, watching the quietness of the street.

It takes about two minutes until he hears footsteps approaching and then the front door opens to reveal Archie, who rushes past him and over to the grass, rolling around like a maniac. Mere seconds later and Armie is sitting beside him on the step, nudging him with his knee, a small smile on his lips when their eyes find one another´s.

"You do realize we just had an argument about a towel, right?"

Timothée tries his best, but he can´t manage to hold back a chuckle. He nods his head, sighs and then leans his back against the door, watching as Armie mirrors his movement.

"I´m sorry I told you to fuck off," he says while reaching out for Armie´s arm, which he holds while leaning his head against his shoulder. "Or that I have somehow made you feel like you were only an asset to me, because that's not at all how I see you."

"Hey, don't sweat it," Armie reassures him, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head. "This quarantine has gotten the best of us, it's normal that we all lose temper once or twice. I never meant to make you feel bad, okay? I don't think you are here only because you need someone to cook for you or whatever."

Timothée looks up at him, eyes filled with sorrow.

"You don't?"

"Of course not, Timmy."

"Because I would hate myself if I made it look like it, that wasn't at all my intention."

"I was the one who suggested we spent quarantine here, not to mention the fact you´ve been spending more time here than at your own apartment ever since we started dating. Quarantine just rushed the inevitable, to be honest."

"And what is the inevitable, Mr. Hammer?"

"You moving in here."

Timothée smiles, placing a quick kiss on Armie´s cheek.

"We´ll talk about that once quarantine is over, okay?"

"Okay," he nods in agreement. "If we haven't killed each other by the end of this whole thing."

Timothée laughs, leaning his head against Armie´s shoulder once again, his arms wrapped around his waist as they both focus their attention on Archie, who gladly roams around the grass, sniffing all around it and rolling from one side to the other.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


An old disc plays on the turntable, the music filling up the entire house as the boys lie on the living room floor, heads against the couch cushions and bodies at arm's reach, facilitating the passing of a joint from one to the other. While Armie has his eyes closed, a hand resting upon his chest, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the song, Timothée has his eyes stuck to the ceiling, the joint dangling in between his lips.

He takes a long drag, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he blows out the smoke. He stretches his arm out for Armie, nudging him softly until he finally reaches out for the joint, immediately taking in his lips. Timothée turns to face him, green eyes stuck on him, eyeing every little move he makes. He smiles, reaches out to touch his cheek, rubbing his palm against Armie's beard, which is now a lot bigger than he has ever seen before.

He chuckles when Armie suddenly turns around, trapping two of his fingers in his mouth, eyes closed as he nibbles on them. Once he finally opens his eyes, which are a darker shade of blue by now, he sucks on his finger, causing Timothée to sigh while suppressing a moan. He takes the joint from him, takes one more drag of it before putting down on the ashtray and then rolls over to Armie, gripping onto his shirt.

Armie chuckles and wraps an arm around his waist, keeping him as close as possible. With his fingers back to his beard, Timothée presses his lips against Armie's, blowing out the smoke while swinging a leg over his body. Armie's grip on him tightens, their crotches press together and he smirks as Armie moans softly.

The sound is everything Timothée needs to fully straddle Armie, grinding their crotches as he leans down to plant kisses all over his neck and shoulder. He grips onto Armie's shirt, swiftly pulls it off and throws it to the ground, burying his face against his chest hair. As Armie thrusts his hips forward, intensifying the friction between them, his hands move down to his ass, which he squeezes and gives it a quick slap. Timothée moans, a hand sliding down in between their bodies to hold onto Armie's hard cock.

He presses his forehead against Armie's, lips barely touching and their hot breathing all over each other. He smiles, tugs on Armie's cock and then starts stroking him slowly, savoring every second and every single moan and grunt that escapes him. If there is one thing not even quarantine can change, is how much Timothée loves to hear Armie moaning. If anything, quarantine made the sound something he cherishes even more.

Annoyed with his own cock being trapped in his pants, Timothée swiftly pushes them to his ankles along with his boxers and presses his cock against Armie's, moving his hips ever so slowly, eyes closed and lips parted as their dicks rub together. He gasps when Armie's large hand wraps around both cocks and he starts jerking them off, all the while leaving kisses all over Timothée's face and neck.

Timothée melts into his arms, his face buried deep into the crook of Armie's neck, kissing, licking and biting into his skin, his hips thrusting into his fist. His body seems on fire and sweat runs down his forehead and back, his toes curl up all of a sudden and out of the blue, without any warning, Timothée cums all over his and Armie's stomach. Armie looks up at him, a sly smile on his lips as he pulls him closer and kisses him hungry, his cum joining the mess soon afterwards.

With a sigh, Timothée rolls back to the floor, arms and legs sprawled as he stares into the ceiling, taking deep breaths. He glances over at Armie, who's smiling down at him and leans close to peck his lip, pushing himself up quickly afterwards. He stands his hand out for him, head gesturing over to the bathroom as Armie smirks.

"I can't stand the heat any longer," he whispers, biting his lip as Armie gets up. He wraps his arms around his neck, jumps on top of him and tightly hooks his legs over his hips, chuckling as Armie rushes over to the bathroom.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The house is silent if not for the sound of Timothée typing frantically on his computer, his green eyes squinted slightly as he bites hard on his lip. He stops for a brief second, cracks his knuckles and then goes back at it, using the coffee table to rest his feet. He reaches for the large glass of Iced Tea that Armie made sure to refill before heading upstairs to work on his project, a photoshoot made through Zoom.

Timothée originally couldn't quite comprehend how he would manage such a thing, but once he saw the results of a previous one, he realized the amount of talent Armie had was actually beyond what he thought. Smiling to himself, he takes a sip of his tea, fixes some errors on the document and then saves it, allowing a sigh to escape him afterwards.

He stretches out his arms, puts the laptop to the side and stands up, rolling on his shoulders. He takes his glass, walks over to the window and takes a peek outside, watching as a couple walks past the house with their dog. The streets have been so quiet he almost forgot the faces of his neighbors.

 _Don't you mean Armie's neighbors?_ , a little voice echoes in his brain as he smiles, shaking his head. He finishes his tea, rushes over to the kitchen to rinse the glass and then makes his way upstairs, computer in hand and a wide smile on his lips. He stops himself at the top step, biting his lip as he waits for Armie to finally notice his presence. Luckily he is no longer with his client and is just editing some of the photos.

"Hey, everything's okay?"

"Yes, everything's okay, I just wanted to show you something."

"What?," Armie asks slightly curious, the look on Timothée's face intriguing. He chuckles as he rushes over, placing the laptop down on his desk and stares at him for a second before turning his attention to the document he's got open. "Is this what I think it is?"

Timothée nods slowly, eyebrows arched as he waits for some sort of feedback.

"You're writing your novel," Armie mumbles, a proud smile spreading through his lips. "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure where I was going with this, or until I had enough pages to have something that resembles a plotline."

Armie chuckles, takes a hold of Timothée's waist and pulls him down to his lap, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He tucks a few curls behind his ear, his eyes filled with pride and care.

"I knew you'd eventually get it done," he says as Timothée nods. "And I'm so proud of you, Tim, you have no idea."

"Thank you for believing in me," Timothée whispers, fingers tangled in Armie's beard. "Thank you for supporting me."

"I'm here for whatever you need, I've made that very clear already."

"You have and I appreciate it," he plants a soft kiss on Armie´s lips, glancing over his shoulder when he hears a small beep coming from his computer. He smiles as he notices it´s Armie´s father and leans forward, accepting the call and watching as his face fills up the screen, a large smile on his lips as he waves.

"Hello, boys."

"Hello, Mr. Hammer," Timothée chuckles as Paul rolls his eyes, a common thing whenever he hears him calling him that.

"Hey, dad, how are things going over there?"

"Boring," Paul admits, shrugging his shoulders. "But I am safe and most of my neighbors too, so I shouldn't be as annoyed as I am."

"Being safe and healthy is the most important part right now, Paul."

"You two are lucky to be together right now, otherwise you´d be devastated."

Timothée chuckles, glancing over at Armie for a second. "We really are lucky, even if we drive each crazy sometimes."

"That happens in all long-term relationships, Timothée," Armie smirks, leaning his chin against Timothée´s shoulder. "So, apart from driving each other crazy, how are things going over there?"

"Oh, nothing much, we´re just..."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Armie finishes setting up the camera, a little smile on the corner of his lips as he admires the work he has done in the kitchen, which much to his surprise does resemble the ones he has often seen in cooking shows. Taking a seat in one of the stools, he grabs his phone, scrolling through a couple of messages as he waits for Timothée.

He chuckles at some of Lee's messages, types a quick and witty reply and then opens his Instagram, taking a few photos of the kitchen, now turned set, to send along with the video once it's done. While Zoe had in mind something simple, Armie and Timothée had gone all day to make their little quarantine cooking show the best material they could deliver.

He sighs and checks the time, confused as to why Timothée is taking so long to get ready. He hears movement in the bedroom and raises his gaze, soon finding Timothée standing there. He's got his best pair of sweatpants on, the black ones that actually hug his ass and leaves Armie crazy, a nice plain white shirt and his hair is slightly wet, a few curls combed back, while the stray one that always ends up falling down his forehead steals the show. One month into quarantine and Armie had named the curl Charlotte, much to Timothée's amusement.

"Ready to go?"

Armie simply nods, still transfixed by the sight in front of him. He sighs, scratches the back of his neck and pushes himself up, focusing his attention on his camera before he gives in and jumps Timothée right there and then. _Maybe a little racy cooking video would go down well with the readers_ , he smirks at the thought, earning an inquisitive look from Timothée.

"What's with the smirk?," he asks as Armie shakes his head. "C'mon, Hammer, what you got in that head of yours?"

"Honestly?," as Timothée nods, Armie reaches over the counter, takes a hold of his shirt and pulls him closer. "I'm thinking about how much I want to rip those clothes off of you and just fuck you against the counter."

Timothée smiles, his tongue seductively tracing his bottom lip. "Then maybe we should get this video done already. The faster we finish, the faster we can turn those ideas into reality."

Armie smirks and plants a soft and quick kiss on Timothée's lip, his tongue teasingly tracing his bottom lip afterwards. When Timothée moans softly, Armie chuckles and pulls away, turning to his camera and making sure everything is set properly. He starts recording, rushes over to Timothée's side and lays a hand on the small of his back, their faces turned to the camera as they smile, making a quick introduction.

Timothée tries his best to stick to the small script they created, explaining exactly what they are going to do and how the idea for the videos came about. As he finishes, his eyes wander to Armie, who leans against the counter, addressing the camera before handing Timothée a bowl. As Armie starts explaining the recipe, Timothée slowly executes his words, chuckling from time to time.

Almost a year ago he joked with Armie about making a segment for Cultural Affair where Armie taught him how to cook, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagined this would actually become true. Let alone that it would happen while they were stuck home in the middle of a pandemic. Then again, if he had to be stuck with someone, he was happy he was doing it with Armie.

As the recipe comes to life, Armie allows a proud smile to take him over, his eyes moving towards the camera whenever he has some insightful thing to say or had a tip to make things easier. Much to their surprise, the whole shooting goes smoothly and in less than an hour they have a batch of lime and chocolate muffins on the oven. 

While the muffins bake, Armie pauses the camera, sighs and takes a seat on one of the stools, grabbing his phone to snap a couple of photos of Timothée, who complains at first, but eventually gives it up and even poses with the spatulas. Armie laughs at his silly poses, but knows that somehow those photos fit perfectly with the atmosphere they are trying to set.

The last thing on their minds is for people to take them too seriously.

Once the timer sets off, Armie promptly gets up, sets the camera to record again and joins Timothée, watching with beaming eyes and a proud smile as he takes the muffins out of the oven and places it down on a cooling rack by the counter. He makes sure to explain a couple more things, gives tips on other things they could add to the muffins and then steps back as Timothée takes one in his hand and shows it to the camera, his own smile quite infectious.

One of the good things about quarantine was that Timothée was in fact taking more time to cook, even if it did happen only after Armie accused him of wanting him around only for the cooking.

"...and I hope you'll join us again next week for another recipe," Timothée says with a smile, before sliding a hand down Armie's waist, keeping him close for a good minute.

As he looks up, Armie nods and rushes to the camera, stopping the video before he can turn it off. He sighs, arches his eyebrows and stares at Timothée, waiting for him to say something.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"I think we have a future," Armie mocks as Timothée rolls his eyes. "What? Don't you?"

"C'mon, help me clean this up."

"I thought we had other plans once the video was done?"

Timothée smirks. "I'm not having sex with you against a dirty counter, Hammer."

"Fine. I should be glad you're even suggesting cleaning, to be honest."

"Hey!"

Armie shrugs, a little laugh escaping him as he joins Timothée by the sink. He gestures to the things in the counter and smiles, washing the bowls and spatulas while Timothée focuses on the counter.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"...because you always do the exact same thing," Armie shouts, a groan of frustration escaping him.

"But of course," Timothée scoffs. "Everything is always my fucking fault isn't? Perfect little Armie can never do anything wrong."

"That's not what I said," he shouts back, his eyes wide and a look of despair in his face. "But as usual you can't fucking listen to anyone, right?"

Timothée rolls his eyes, shakes his head and turns on his heels, his sweaty hands rubbing against his jean shorts.

"This is your biggest problem, you simply can't admit that sometimes you need help, so you continue to be your stubborn self, not listening to anyone around you."

"If I'm so fucking terrible, than why on earth are you still around?"

"Are you serious right now?," he asks in disbelief, watching as Timothée shrugs his shoulders, green eyes staring intensely back at him. "I can't believe this."

As Armie turns around, Timothée frowns, exasperated hands moving around.

"So this is it? You're gonna simply turn your back and walk away from me?," he shakes his head, letting out a sigh. "But of course you will, you always end up an argument by walking away."

Armie stops, glances at him over his shoulder and then shakes his head. He grabs his mask, phone and wallet, stuffs the last two in his pocket and heads over to the door, but stops for a moment, looking over at Timothée, who watches him in silence.

"Maybe it's because I didn't want an argument in the first place."

The sound of the door slamming after he leaves startles Timothée, who recoils, blinking a couple of times. He sighs, closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands, hating himself for allowing the situation to escalate into yet another heated argument.

He walks over to the kitchen, fills a glass with water and quickly drinks it all, his eyes roaming through the house, spotting as Archie quietly lies on the last step of the stairs. He smiles slightly, always amazed at how calm he can be, even in the worst of situations.

Angry, mostly at himself than anything else, Timothée heads over to the bedroom, throwing himself down on the bed, his eyes up to the ceiling. It takes almost half an hour for him to hear something other than his breathing and he quickly sits up, watching through the partition as Armie makes his way inside the house.

He swallows dryly, bites his lip and takes a deep breath, rushing over to the living room. He stops a couple of feet away from Armie, green eyes slightly glassy, his lips trying to form some sort of smile.

"Armie...," he practically whispers, rushing over to him, who remains quiet. He takes his hand, leads him to the couch and sits down. "I'm sorry for what happened, I never meant to make things bigger than they were, I never wanted it to escalate the way it did. I know I can be complicated sometimes and quarantine has made things a lot more complicated, so I'm sorry, I truly am."

Armie sighs, his hands moving to Timothée's thighs, which he squeezes gently.

"I'm sorry too, I should have tried to understand the situation instead of accusing you of things."

"I don't want you to leave me, okay? What I said earlier was in the heat of the moment, the last thing I want is for you to walk away from me," he bites his lip, hands stroking Armie's beard. "I'm seeing all these couples that are in the same situation as us breaking up, hating each other after weeks locked up together and I don't want that to happen with us, I really don't. I know the situation itself is complicated, but I hate when we argue, because I love you so much and..."

"Hey," Armie shakes his head, his hands moving to Timothée's waist, which he holds tight. "We're not gonna be one of these couples, alright? Yes, quarantine has messed up with people, but it doesn't mean just because it happened with them that it will happen with us. I'm not leaving you, I couldn't do it."

"Okay," Timothée whispers, trying to smile.

"I love you too, by the way," he winks and brings Timothée closer, kissing him softly. When Timothée throws his body against his, Armie laughs, tightening his hold around him as they fall back on the couch.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


"C´mon, I promise you this will be the last," Armie says while lowering his camera, pleading blue eyes and a cheeky little grin on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, waits for Timothée to nod his head and then rushes over to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Lean against the window, put your left foot up on the wall and hold your shirt down enough to cover your boxers," he explains, taking a step back as Timothée gets in position. He nods, gently grips onto Timothée´s chin and turns his face slightly to the left, making sure the sunlight that comes through the window is working almost as a halo around him. "Okay, I need you to stare straight ahead now and hold this position for a while."

Timothée simply hums his reply and Armie scoffs, shaking his head. He takes a few steps back, aims the camera towards Timothée and snaps a couple of photos, checking on them quickly, before moving to the side, using another angle.

"Okay, now sit on the windowsill," he bites his lip, watching as Timothée gets in position and then rushes over to him once again, messing with his curls and letting them fall down his forehead. He forces him to lean his head back against the wall, gently traces his thumb across his bottom lip and pulls on it afterwards, earning a look from Timothée. "I want a close up of your face and think your lip slightly bruised would look good."

"Right," Timothée mocks, rolling his eyes.

"Get in position."

"Bossy," he mumbles as Armie glares at him. "I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Timmy," Armie whines, although he can´t help but laugh, taking a few steps back to aim the camera at Timothée. He snaps a couple of photos, marvels at how beautiful he looks in every single one of them and moves even closer, using the sunlight from the outside to illuminate his gorgeous face and highlight his strong features. "You're breathtaking."

Timothée smiles, reaches out for his hand and pulls him close. He brushes their lips together while a hand slides down his back, gripping onto his asscheeks and squeezing it. Armie smirks, kisses him softly, the tip of his tongue running across his bottom lip before he invades his mouth, deepening the kiss.

Armie pulls away after a few seconds, licks his lip and smiles, snapping yet another photo before Timothée can even think of protesting. He takes his hand, helps him down from the windowsill and gestures to the side, his smile now becoming a little more mischievous.

"Get in bed."

"What exactly do you have in mind, Hammer?"

"Get in bed," he simply says and Timothée bites his lip, nodding his head. As he lies down, legs slightly parted and t-shirt rising up to his hips, Timothée maintains his eyes locked on Armie, who can´t help but feel his cock throb inside his pants. He shakes his head, focusing his attention on the job he is doing and jumps in bed, hovering over Timothée, who laughs, a hand covering his eyes. "That's great, don´t move."

He moves from one side to the other, leans closer to Timothée and then kneels down in bed, the shutter of his camera going off every three seconds. He finally stops, a sigh escaping him as he removes the strap from around his neck and sets the camera down on the bedside table. He chuckles as Timothée takes a hold of his shirt once again, pulls him down on top of him and wraps his arms and legs around his body, their lips connected seconds later.

Armie moans softly through the kiss, his hands skimming down Timothée´s side and inside the t-shirt, which obviously belongs to him. He feels the goosebumps that form on Timothée´s skin, feels the heat of his body against his and the hardness of his cock against his thigh. Once he pulls back, a soft smile on his lips, Armie presses their foreheads together, his thumb rubbing against Timothée´s nipple under the shirt.

Timothée closes his eyes, tilts his head back for a moment and then grips tightly onto Armie´s waist, rolling them over in bed and straddling him. He smiles, a wicked little smile that leaves Armie breathless, even more enamored than he already was.

"You know that thing you said about me moving in?," Timothée eventually asks, causing Armie to cock an eyebrow. "I have been thinking about it a lot."

"And?"

"And I think it's not such a bad idea," he shrugs, mirroring Armie´s smile. "After all, ever since we started dating I´ve spent more time here than at my apartment anyway. And I really like your house, your dog, the neighborhood and..."

"And me?"

"Specially you," he chuckles, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "So if you still think that is a good idea, then yeah, after this is all over, I will officially move in."

"I can hardly wait."


End file.
